tf 


4 


BOUQUET 


OF 


POESY; 


BY  THEODORE  A.  GOULD. 


No\v,  little  book,  go  forth — fair  may  thy  fortune  be, — 
Though  others  note  thy  faults,  still  art  thou  dear  to  mo. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR, 

AND    FOR    SALE    AT    THE    PRINCII  Al,    BOOKSTORES. 

1848. 


SPAFFORD  D.  MACDONALD,  PRINTER, 
No.  12  Spruce-st.,  N.  Y. 


Hiftf    II- 


PREFACE. 


IT  can  be  of  no  very  important  interest  to  the  reader, 
whether  the  author,  in  holding  forth  to  the  eyes  of  the  world 
this  little  bouquet  of  poesy — these  unpretending  flowers  of 
peaceful  thought — was  either  impelled  by  a  desire  for  gain, 
or  allured  by  fame,  or  inspired  by  vanity.  The  work  must 
rest  on  its  own  intrinsic  merits,  if  it  possess  any,  for  the  au 
thor  is  not  willing  to  incur  any  risk  of  compromising  that 
reputation  for  modesty  for  which  he  is  so  peculiarly  distin 
guished,  by  any  attempt  at  an  exposition  of  the  motives  and 
circumstances  that  prompted  him  to  launch  his  bark  upon 
the  uncertain  tide  of  authorship.  You  are  welcome  to  the 
viands,  such  as  they  are,  and  if,  upon  tasting,  they  suit  not 
your  palate,  why — then  abstain  from  them.  However,  he 
trusts  that  some  gratification  may  be  gathered  from  the  varied 
store,  by  even  the  most  fastidious. 

These  pages  contain  no  sentiments  that  are  uncongenial 
with  the  purest  morality.  That  it  is  the  legitimate  province 
of  poetry  to  cultivate  the  mind,  to  purify,  to  ennoble,  and  to 
guide  the  heart,  and  to  spiritualize  the  imagination,  is  the 
author's  firm  belief;  and  to  those  who  coincide  with  him  in 
this  view,  this  little  volume  will  not  be  uninteresting. 

Who  will  deny,  that  poetry  possesses  the  power  to  exert  a 
refining  influence  over  the  heart  1  Surely  none !  A  divine 
has  said : 

"  O  speak  no  ill  of  poetry, 
For  'tis  a  holy  thing." 

It  flings  a  soft  and  mellow  blush  of  beauty  around  our  path 
of  life  with  its  magic  radiance ;  it  throws  an  odor  over  the 
senses,  sweeter  than  the  honeyed  breath  of  flowers.  Oh !  cold 


M191944 


VI 


must  be  the  heart  as  Andes'  snow,  that  would  refuse  to  inhale 
the  divine  fragrance !  Poetry  is  ever  ready  to  mingle  its 
sympathies  with  the  heart.  To  the  religious  devotee  it  comes 
clothed  with  heavenly  beauty,  when  it  speaks,  in  the  glowing 
terms  of  inspiration,  of  the  Omnipotence  and  goodness  of 
the  Creator,  and  expatiates  upon  the  glories  of  his  kingdom. 
'Tis  welcomed  by  the  moralist  when  it  teaches  the  duties  of 
humanity,  and  inculcates  a  spirit  of  charity  and  benevolence. 
It  comes  to  the  lover  like  a  gentle  confidante,  and  with  a  lan 
guage  not  to  be  misunderstood  ;  and  the  mysterious  chords  of 
sympathy  are  again  awakened  and  vibrate  pleasantly  in  his 
heart.  To  the  patriot,  when  the  trumpet-tones  of  victory 
peal  forth  in  spirit-stirring  strains,  and  the  glory  of  his  coun 
try  is  the  theme.  To  the  earth-worn  and  weary,  in  whose  bo 
som  the  lamp  of  hope  burns  dimly,  who  are  borne  down  to  the 
earth  with  many  sorrows,  it  comes  with  a  ''still  small  voice" 
whispering  consolation — it  points  with  uplifted  finger  to  the 
throne  of  God,  and  bids  the  sufferer  be  of  good  cheer,  that  a 
brighter  day  will  dawn  for  him,  that  God  cannot  forget  his 
creatures,  but  watcheth  over  them  always. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  that  the  author  has  the  vanity  to  as 
sume  that  his  little  volume  possesses  all  the  lofty  and  refining 
attributes  he  has  declared  to  belong  to  true  poetry.  Of  the 
artistic  merits  of  his  productions  he  says  nothing,  but  in  the 
principles  and  sentiments  comprised  therein,  he  has  the  full 
est  confidence.  They  contain  nothing  to  offend  the  most  rigid 
sectarian  ;  they  clash  not  with  any  creed — religious  or  politi 
cal.  He  who  would  fetter  the  free  judgment  of  his  fellows,  is 
a  libel  on  his  Maker,  and  the  disgrace  of  humanity.  With 
these  brief  remarks,  the  author  commits  his  bantling  to  your 
tender  care,  T.  A.  G. 


THE    DYING   CHILD. 


THE  DYING  CHILD. 


"  There  is  a  world  above, 
Where  parting  is  unknown — 

A  long  eternity  of  love, 

Formed  for  the  good  alone." 


With  grief  oppressed,  a  mother  stands  beside  the  suffer 
er's  bed ; 

Her  pale  and  sunken  lips  foretell  that  hope  hath  nearly  fled : 
Yet  do  not  call  her  wretched — for  in  accents  low  and  clear 
Such  sweet  consoling  words  as  these  fall  gently  on  her  ear  : 

"  I'll  not  be  with  you  long,  mother — 

I  soon  must  say  good-bye  ; 
But,  mother,  we  shall  meet  again 

In  God's  bright  home  on  high. 
Oh,  mother,  do  n't  you  know  you  said 

Sweet  sister's  living  there — 
And  that  she  is  an  angel  now, 

So  beautiful  and  fair ! 

"  She  will  know  me,  when  I  come,  mother, 

She  will  take  me  by  the  hand  : 
And  we'll  always  be  together  there, 

In  yonder  peaceful  land  : 


THE   DYING   CHILD. 


And,  mother,  I  shall  wear  bright  wings — 

I'll  be  an  angel  too ! 
And  then  before  God's  golden  throne, 

I'll  kneel  and  pray  for  you. 

"  I  like  to  feel  your  hand,  mother, 

So  soft  upon  my  brow ; 
I  always  loved  its  gentle  touch — 

'T  is  dearer  to  me  now. 
Oh,  mother,  do  not  weep  for  me, 

I'm  not  afraid  to  die ; 
Your  lip  is  trembling,  and  I  see 

The  tears  are  in  your  eye. 

"  Lean  closer  down — your  ear,  mother — 

My  voice  is  growing  weak  : 
You  are  weeping  yet — I  felt  a  tear 

Just  fall  upon  my  cheek. 
My  eyes  grow  dim — and,  oh,  I  hear 

Sweet  music  from  the  sky  ! 
It  is  for  me — I'm  going  now — 

Mother — good-bye — good-bye !" 

And  like  the  last  soft  beam  of  light  that  fades  at  close  of  day, 
That  gentle  spirit  took  its  flight  and  passed  from  earth  away : 
But  now  in  shining  vesture  clad,  with  radiant  face  he  stands, 
Blending  his  songs  of  love  and  praise  with  bright-robed 
angel  bands ! 


TO   MY   MOTHER. 


TO  MY  MOTHER. 


I'll  not  forget  thee,  mother  dear, 

Though  far  from  thee  away  j 
I  see  thy  fond  face  in  my  dreams; 

I  think  of  thee  by  day. 
And  like  a  radiant  star  that  shines 

Within  some  glassy  stream, 
Thy  gentle  memory  cheers  my  breast 

With  sweet  and  tranquil  beam. 

I  oft  recall  the  times,  mother, 

When  standing  by  thy  knee, 
A  little,  careless,  playful  child, 

With  laughter  wild  and  free. 
And  often  thou  didst  sing  for  me, 

Some  simple  ballad  strain; 
Or  tell  me  tales  of  giant  men, 

By  pigmy  warriors  slain. 

When  pain  and  sickness  came,  mother, 

Who  then  so  kind  as  thou  ! 
Thy  cool  soft  hand  so  gently  prest 

Upon  my  fevered  brow. 


10  TO   MY   MOTHER. 


And  when  returned  to  health  again 

By  thy  restoring  art ; 
I've  read  upon  thy  beaming  face 

The  love  within  thy  heart. 

Ah,  those  are  sacred  times,  mother, 

They  cannot  be  forgot ; 
Each  through  the  misty  past  will  shine, 

A  green  and  sunny  spot. 
And,  mother,  from  the  path  of  truth 

Fear  not  that  I  shall  stray ; 
For  thy  dear  memory  still  will  lead 
My  heart  the  better  way. 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  11 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 

"  He  said,  "  I  am  the  Son  of  God." 

They  nailed  him  to  the  cross  !     and  as  he  hung 

In  patient  suffering  there,  the  sponge  of  gall 

They  thrust  against  his  lips ;  and  rudely  flung 

Reproach  and  insult  on  him ;   still  his  call 

Was,  "  Father  forgive  them."     Thus  this  martyr  died ; 

To  love  of  human  kind,  a  sacrifice — 

A  victim  to  mad  zeal,  and  jealous  pride. 

Meekly  their  scoffs  he  bore  till  life  was  fled; 

Then  came  his  brave  soul's  triumph !     Then  the  skies 

Grew  dark  as  midnight ;   and  to  startled  eyes 

Appeared  again  on  earth  the  shrouded  dead ; 

And  rocks  were  rent,  and  stern  hearts  shook  with  dread. 

Ages  have  since  rolled  by ;  yet  still  his  worship'd  name 

In  brightening  lustre  shines,  God's  mercy  to  proclaim. 


12  THE   SABBATH   BELLS. 


THE  SABBATH  BELLS. 


The  bells  of  the  holy  Sabbath 

Are  ringing  out  soft  and  clear; 
And  their  solemn  and  sacred  music 

Falls  pleasantly  on  the  ear ; 
While  their  sweet,  persuasive  summons, 

Recalls  God's  high  behest : 
"  Six  days  shalt  thou  have  for  labor, 

But  the  seventh  shall  be  for  rest !" 

The  tools  of  the  weary  workman 

Are  lying  unheeded  now ; 
His  arm  hath  ceased  from  toiling, 

And  smiles  play  o'er  his  brow; 
For  he  lists  to  the  church-bells  ringing, 

And  blesses  that  high  behest : 
"  Six  days  shalt  thou  have  for  labor, 

But  the  seventh  shall  be  for  rest !" 

And  the  heart,  no  matter  how  sinful, 
With  a  purer  impulse  swells, 

As  it  thrills  to  the  soothing  cadence 
Of  the  blessed  Sabbath  bells; 


THE    SABBATH    BELLS.  13 

For  their  tones,  so  calm  and  earnest, 

Are  echoed  within  the  breast : 
"  Six  days  shalt  thou  have  for  labor, 

But  the  seventh  shall  be  for  rest !" 

? 
Oh,  a  blessed  day  is  the  Sabbath, 

With  its  sweetly  chiming  bells  ; 
For  the  spirit  of  calm  devotion 

In  their  clear  vibration  dwells  ; 
When  the  toil-worn  are  reminded 

Of  Jehovah's  high  behest : 
"  Six  days  shalt  thou  have  to  labor, 

But  the  seventh  shall  be  for  rest !" 


14  LOUISIANA — A  SONNET. 


LOUISIANA— A  SONNET. 


Bright  are  thy  skies,  oh,  fair  and  sunny  land  ! 

Blest  Louisiana !  kindly  nature  gives, 
As  a  fond  mother  to  a  darling  child  j 

And  with  foreseeing  care  each  want  relieves, 
Scattering  her  blessings,  with  a  liberal  hand, 

Of  rich  luxuriance  o'er  thy  fertile  fields; — 
Sweet  flowers  of  rarest  beauty — and  how  mild 

Is  the  free  air  they  breathe — the  lovely  things  ! 
God's  tinted  revelations !     And  they  preach 

Their  silent  lessons  to  the  heart  of  man, 
Of  purer  excellence  than  priest  may  teach, 

Of  never  failing  wisdom.     Yes,  sweet  land, 
Fair  are  thy  skies,  and  fields,  and  flowers,  and  waters, 
And  brave  thy  generous  sons,  and  kind  thy  bright-eyed 
daughters. 


ISIDORE.  15 


ISIDORE. 


Oh  !  thou  art  very  dear  to  me, 

Isidore ! 

Thou  art  very  dear  to  me — 
And  like  the  wild  bird,  joyously, 
Seeking,  with  gushing  melody, 
His  lone-love,  waiting  silently — 
So  wings  my  spirit  unto  thee, 

Isidore ! 

Undying  is  my  love  for  thee — 

Isidore ! 

Undying  is  my  love  for  thee — 
And  as  a  star  that  tremblingly, 
From  heaven's  cloudless  canopy, 
Reflects  its  soft  light  faithfully, 
Thou  shinest  in  my  memory, 

Isidore ! 

Slumber  bringeth  dreams  of  thee, 
Isidore ! 

Slumber  bringeth  dreams  of  thee — 
Thine  eyes  beam  on  me  tenderly  ; 
I  clasp  thy  sweet  form  fervently — 
My  lips  press  thine  in  ecstacy ! 
But  waking  breaks  the  fantasy ! 
Isidore  ! 


16  THE    RAIN. 


THE  RAIN. 


Rain  !  rain  !  rain  ! 

Oh,  dear,  will  it  never  stop  ! 
One  can't  stir  out  a  single  step 

But  he's  spattered  with  mud  and  slop. 
It's  most  two  weeks  to-day, 

Since  first  this  rain  begun  ; 
And  now  its  a  treat  to  the  eye  to  greet 

A  ray  of  the  blessed  sun. 

Rain  !  rain  !  rain  ! 

No  sun  to  be  seen  to-day  j 
It's  beginning  again,  for  the  window  pane 

Is  bedimmed  by  the  drizzling  spray. 
Now,  everybody  you  meet 

Is  hateful,  and  crabbed,  and  cross  — 
As  though  they  had  met,  in  the  mud  and  wet 

With  some  very  lamentable  loss. 

Oh  !  Pluvius,  what  do  you  mean  1  — 

Pray,  have  you  not  any  regard 
For  us  mortals  below,  and  do  you  not  know 

It's  not  fair,  and  it's  certainly  hard  ? 
Oh  !  now  it  don't  rain  a  drop  — 

And  the  sun  flings  down  a  glance 
Of  indignant  pride,  as  though  he'd  preside, 

If  he  had  but  the  smallest  chance. 


THE    RAIN.  17 


Pshaw  !  no ! — we  had  hoped  in  vain — 

The  weather's  a  pert  coquette — 
By  the  clouds  that  frown,  it  will  soon  come  down 

In  a  manner  unequalled  yet. 
Hurrah!  just  listen  to  that — 

Good  gracious,  how  it  pours  ! 
Oh  !  where  are  the  feet  of  the  folks  in  the  street — 

Hark !  how  the  thunder  roars  ! 

See  !  there  go  three  little  boys, 

No  rag  upon  them  dry; 
Perhaps  they  would  wade,  but  I  guess  they're  afraid 

It's  a  little  too  deep  to  try. 
See  that  woman,  there,  over  the  way  ! 

She^  appears  in  a  terrible  plight : 
She  seems  in  distress — a  mermaid,  I  guess, 

With  the  fishy  half  out  of  sight. 

Ha !  ha  !  she  has  taken  a  dive ! 

He  !  he  !  it  is  wrong,  I  know, 
To  sit  safe  and  dry,  from  the  wrath  of  the  sky, 

And  laugh  at  another's  woe. 
Might  as  well  laugh  as  cry — 

Can't  do  her  any  harm : 
Ha!  ha  !  oh,  dear,  if  she'd  only  come  here, 

I'd  gallantly  offer  my  arm. 


18  THE    RAIN. 


There  goes  a  limping  old  wretch, 

Afflicted  with  ague  and  gout ; 
Excited  with  pain,  he  curses  the  rain, 

And  the  chance  that  induced  him  out. 
With  both  propellers  submerged, 

How  he  pokes  along  like  a  dunce  ; 
I  know  it's  not  right,  yet  I'd  take  a  delight 

To  see  him  dip  under  once. 

Rain !  rain  !  rain ! 

I'm  becoming  a  different  man  ; 
I've  felt,  at  each  hour,  my  temper  grow  sour, 

Since  this  hateful  rain  began, 
I  can  not  go  out  at  all, 

But  here  I  am  forced  to  remain  ;  •» 

I'll  enjoy  all  I  see  with  a  fiendish  glee — 

Ha  !  ha !  it  is  pouring  again  ! 


THE   ANGEL   OF   CHARITY. 


19 


THE  ANGEL  OF  CHARITY. 


"  Know,"  replied  the  angel,  "  I  am  the  same  : 

I  tried  your  charity, 

When  in  a  beggar's  garb  you' took  rne  up, 
And  clothed  my  naked  limbs,  and  after  fed, 
As  you  believed,  my  famished  mouth.     Learn  all 
By  your  example,  to  look  on  the  poor 
With  gentle  eyes  !  for  in  such  habits,  often 
Angels  desire  an  alms." 


Oh,  grant  an  alms  to  the  suffering  poor, 

From  your  purse  of  hoarded  gold  ; 
Give  something  to  stop  the  biting  pangs 

Of  hunger  and  of  cold  : 

God  will  smile  on  the  generous  deed, 
And  repay  it  an  hundred  fold. 
Spirits  unseen  are  hovering  near, 

To  bear  report  of  good  actions  here  ; 
And  the  angel  of  charity  waits  above, 

To  record  such  deeds  in  her  book  of  love  : 


Heed  not  his  country,  name,  nor  creed, — 

Nor  the  cause  that  worked  his  woe, 
'Tis  enough  that  his  misery  needs  the  boon, 
He  begs  thee  to  bestow. 

Thou'rt  richly  paid,  when  his  sunken  eyes, 
With  grateful  pleasure  glow. 


20  THE   ANGEL   OF    CHARITY. 

Spirits  unseen  are  hovering  near, 
To  bear  report  of  good  actions  here ; 

And  the  angel  of  charity  waits  above, 
To  write  such  deeds  in  her  book  of  love  : 

Then  something  give  to  the  child  of  want, 

While  his  pangs  you  can  relieve, 
And  your  heart  will  feel,  it  is  better  far 

To  give  than  to  receive. 

Thank  God,  thou'rt  not  in  the  tangling  net 
Adversity  loves  to  weave. 
Spirits  unseen  are  hovering  near, 

To  bear  report  of  good  actions  here ; 
And  the  angel  of  charity  waits  above, 

To  record  such  deeds  in  the  book  of  love. 


I   CANNOT   FORGET   THEE.  21 


I  CANNOT  FORGET  THEE. 

"  The  heart  that  loves, 
Dwells  in  an  Eden,  hearing  angel-lutes, 
As  Eve,  in  the  FIRST  GARDEN." 

Oh,  I  ne'er  can  forget  thee, — 

The  pulses  that  start, 
So  strangely  and  wild, 

In  the  depths  of  my  heart, 
Where  thy  dear  face  is  glassed, 

In  its  life-lighted  stream, 
Declare  that  my  love 

Is  no  vanishing  dream. 

Oh,  I  ne'er  can  forget  thee, 

Though  brilliantly  shine 
The  glances  of  young  eyes, 

As  beaming  as  thine. 
Ah,  forever  the  bright  sun 

From  earth  shall  depart, 
E'er  thy  image,  thou  loved  one, 

Shall  fade  from  my  heart. 

When  no  more  to  the  hour 
The  dial  points  true, — 

When  refuses  the  flower 
The  night-falling  dew, — 


22  I    CANNOT    FORGET    THEE. 

When  the  eye  dwells  no  more 
On  the  rose  in  its  bloom, — 

Or  the  senses  disdain 
To  inhale  its  perfume  ; — 

When  the  spirit  of  childhood 

Forgetteth  its  mirth, — 
Or  the  birds  of  the  wildwood 

To  gladden  the  earth, — 
When  the  stars  fail  to  shine, 

Or  the  seasons  to  roll, — 
Shall  the  night  of  indifference 

Darken  my  soul. 


LOOK  CHEERFUL.  23 


LOOK  CHEERFUL. 


The  face  that  beaming  smiles  illume, 
Denotes  a  breast  where  roses  bloom, 
Of  goodness,  shedding  sweet  perfume, 
Look  cheerful. 

Look  cheerful  when  thou  wouldst  impart 
A  solace  to  the  care-worn  heart ; 
'Twill  take  from  woe  its  keenest  smart. 
Look  cheerful. 

Kind  smiles  are  lovely  as  the  light 
Of  Luna's  beams,  when  clear  and  bright 
They  shine  in  some  calm  Summer  night. 
Look  cheerful. 

Smiles  have  the  potent  power  to  fling 
A  radiance  over  life.     And  bring 
A  freshness  like  the  breath  of  Spring. 
Look  cheerful. 

Sweet  smiles  are  welcome  everywhere, 
They  come  like  angels  soft  and  fair, 
Beguiling  thoughts  of  gloom  and  care. 
Look  cheerful. 

Austerity  deforms  the  face- 
But  cheerfulness  imparts  a  grace, 
That  envious  Time  can  ne'er  erase. 
Look  cheerful. 


24  THE    KISS. 


THE  KISS. 


;  Upon  the  perfumed  pillow  of  her  lips, 
Lovo,  smiling,  sleeps." 


Now  dearest,  none  are  near  us  j»  let  my  arm 

Thy  pliant  form  encircle — thus.     A  charm — 

A  strange  and  quickened  pulse  runs  through  my  heart, 

At  this  sweet  sense  of  nearness.     Oh,  thou  art 

My  wildly  worshipped  idol !     Thus,  thy  head 

Incline  upon  my  shoulder — so  :  and  let  me  part 

These  glossy  tresses  from  thy  snowy  brow  : 

Why !  like  some  timid  fawn  thou  tremblest  now ! 

And  from  thy  soft,  warm  cheek  the  rose  has  fled — 

Dost  thou  not  love  me  then  ?     Oh  yes  !  that  sigh 

Declareth  more  than  words,  love's  deepest  bliss : 

We'll  seal  the  sweet  averment  with  a  kiss — 

And  let  those  rich,  red  clinging  lips  of  thine 

Give  sweetly  back  the  answering  thrill  to  mine. 


THE  FROST  AND  THE  FLOWER. A  THOUGHT.  25 


THE  FROST  AND  THE  FLOWER. 


'Twas  an  evening  in  Autumn  !  the  Frost  King  did  hie 

To  a  bank  near  the  rivulet's  side  ; 
Where,  amid  the  bright  flowers  that  greeted  his  eye, 

The  fairest  he  chose  for  his  bride. 
But  the  timid  young  thing,  in  its  beauty  and  pride. 

Seemed  to  shrink  from  the  gaze  of  his  eyes ; 
Then  closely  he  clasped  it— "  Oh !  wilt  thou  ?"  he  sighed  ? 
It  wilted— and  Death  seized  the  prize. 


A  THOUGHT. 


Man  is  like  a  flower, 

That  springeth  at  the  dawn, — 
Droopeth  at  the  evening  hour, — 

Withers — and  is  gone. 

But  no  longer  like  the  flower, — 
For  its  honeyed  essence  dies ; 

While  the  soul,  in  death's  dark  hour, 
Mounteth  to  the  skies- ! 


26  THE  LOVER'S  DREAM. 


THE  LOVER'S  DREAM. 


By  the  vine  tree's  shade,  one  pleasant  night, 
Two  lovers  stood ;  while  the  liquid  light 
That  Luna  shed  from  her  starry  height, 

Made  the  sweet  scene  more  dear. 
Anon  their  eyes  did  meet — anon, 
In  soft  abashment  her's  would  shun 
His  gaze.     And  thus,  in  fervent  tone, 

He  then  addressed  her  ear: 

"I  dreamed  of  thee  last  night;  I  dreamed  that  thou 

Stood  then  beside  me  as  thou  standest  now; 

Sweetly  my  sense  drank  in  thy  voice's  tone — 

I  clasp1  d  thy  soft  hand,  thus,  within  mine  own: 

Then  as  I  gazed  within  those  lustrous  eyes, 

That  shame  the  stars  in  brightness,  did  thy  sighs 

Reveal  the  struggling  secret  thou  wouldst  hide ; 

And  then  I  drew  thee  to  my  heaving  breast, 

While  all  my  soul  my  murmured  words  confess'd. 

Oh,  this  was  rapture !     And  the  time  did  glide 

Like  the  sweet  cadence  of  a  soothing  song, 

Or  like  a  gurgling  stream  that  flows  along ; 

Then  as  my  cheek  to  thine  did  warmly  press — 

Wilt  thou,  said  I,  be  mine  ?    And  thou  didst  answer  Yes !" 


FRANCE A  SONNET. CHILDREN  WITH  FLOWERS.    27 


FRANCE— A  SONNET. 


"  Vive  la  Republic  !"     Thus  the  shouts  rang  clear, 

In  deafening  peals  upon  the  startled  air ; 
The  breezes  bear  them  to  the  monarch's  ear: 
"  Down  with  the  throne  !"    Then  fast  increasing  fear 
Spreads  through  his  guilty  heart — while  loud  and  near 

The  cry  forewarns  of  danger !     Chill  despair 
Unnerves  the  sceptred  hand,  and  from  its  grasp 

The  sign  of  power  falls.     Nearer  is  heard 
"Down  with  the  monarchy  !"    Then,  seized  with  dread, 
He  flings  aside  the  crown  that  decked  his  head ; 
And  flies  for  safety.     Yesterday  his  word, 
The  trampled  hearts  of  millions  might  have  stirred ; 
To-day,  0  France  !   the  indignant  arm  of  right 
Hath  crushed  forevermore  the  tyrant's  might ! 

CHILDREN  WITH  FLOWERS. 


I  saw,  before  my  door,  a  little  band 

Of  joyous  children  pass — each  tiny  hand 

A  bunch  of  sweetest  flowers  upheld  to  view, 

Embathed  with  glittering  drops  of  morning  dew  : 

Each  little  sinless  bosom  seemed  to  swell 

Beneath  the  influence  of  their  silent  spell ! 

I  tho't  how  blest  were  earth,  could  flowers  impart 

Perrenial  bloom  and  gladness  to  the  heart ! 


28  THERE    IS    A    GOD. 


THERE  IS  A  GOD. 
'  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  « There  is  no  God.' " 

No  God !     Vain  mortal  art  tliou  blind  ? 

Doth  error's  gloomy  pall 
Shut  out  the  day-beams  from  thy  mind, 

And  hold  thy  soul  in  thrall  ? 

No  God !  Tear  down  the  sombre  veil 
That  hides  Him  from  thy  sight ! 

Let  the  bright  beams  of  truth  prevail, 
And  banish  falsehood's  night ! 

No  God  ?     Behold  yon  golden  sun — 

So  glorious,  and  so  grand  ! 
Think'st  thou  his  daily  course  could  run, 

Without  some  guiding  hand  ? 

No  God  ?     Then  why  the  luscious  fruit, 

The  rolling  seasons  bring  ? 
What  is  it  forms  the  living  shoot — 

Or  starts  the  bubbling  spring  1 

No  God  ?     The  trees,  the  birds,  the  flowers, 
The  stars  that  gleam  on  high — 

The  sun,  the  stream,  the  falling  showers, 
Refute  thy  impious  lie  ! 


THE    LITTLE    NEGRO    BOY.   .  29 

THE  LITTLE  NEGRO  BOY. 

A  Highly  Colored  Picture. 


The  sky  was  blue,  the  waves  were  green, 
When  seated  on  some  cotton  bales, 

With  tearful  eyes,  was  Dinah  seen, 
Watching  a  schooner's  ragged  sails, 

And  thus  to  heaven  she  prayed  a  prayer  : 
"  Thou  dat  kin  smash  and  kin  distroy, 

0,  do  take  care  wid  careful  care, 

And  watch  my  little  nigger  boy  ! 

"  When  storms  at  night  wid  mighty  might, 

Shall  make  de  white  folks  start  wid  dread, 
Den  do  not  let  de  lightnin  light 

On  my  dear  darlin's  woolsy  head. 
Nor  do  not  let  de  sunshine  shine, 

Wid  burnin  beams  dat  will  destroy, 
In  de  big  large  eyes  dat  do  adorn, 

De  beauty  ob  my  nigger  boy. 

"And  when  my  darlin's  dreamin  dreams, 

Let  not  de  sailors  take  delight, 
While  slumberin  in  de  arms  ob  sleep, 

To  duck  him  in  de  waves  at  night : 
And  when  he  lands  on  foreign  shore, 

Let  no  black  wench  my  hopes  destroy : 
But  guard  his  feet-steps  evermore, 

And  bring  me  back  dat  nigger  boy  !" 


30  ALWAYS    SOME   FUN    LEFT. 


ALWAYS  SOME  FUN  LEFT. 


When  thy  soul  is  o'ercast 

With  dark  shadows  of  care, 
And  hope  at  the  last 

Almost  yields  to  despair, 
Just  hold  on  a  while — do  not  sorrow  and  fret, 
Consider — there's  always  a  little  fun  yet ! 

Though  the  sun  oft  goes  down 

Amid  tempest  and  rain, 
The  sweet  flowers  of  morning 

Will  hail  it  again ; 

So,  hold  on  awhile — do  not  sorrow  and  fret, 
Consider — there's  always  a  little  fun  yet ! 


BYE-PAST   DAYS.  31 


BYE-PAST  DAYS. 


Whene'er  my  memory  brings  to  view, 

Through  gathering  shadows  of  the  past, 
Bright  forms  that  erst  in  youth  I  knew, 
Whose  hearts  were  kind,  whose  lips  were  true,- 
Strange  clouds  my  brow  o'ercast. 

My  heart  thrills  to  the  very  core, 

With  deep  emotions,  sweet,  though  sad  ; 
And  well  loved  names  are  murmured  o'er, 
Of  friends  my  eyes  shall  greet  no  more, 
That  made  my  boyhood  glad. 

The  fond  companions  of  my  play, 

Who  shared  my  youthful  hopes  and  joys, 

Long,  long  ago, — where  now  are  they  ? 

My  sad  heart  whispers — "  Far  away  " — 
"  They've  done  with  childhood's  toys." 

Where  are  the  girls  I  loved  to  chase, 

With  shout  and  laugh,  to  win  a  kiss  ? 
Sweet  was  the  prize,  and  short  the  race  : 
And  soft  the  hands  that  slapped  my  face, 
For  "  doing  so  a-miss" 


32  BYE-PAST    DAYS. 


Gay  times  !  those  loving  hearts  are  now 

Launched  out  on  life's  broad  billowy  stream, 
And  Care,  perhaps,  on  many  a  brow, 
Is  driving  deep  his  furrowing  plough, 
Where  gladness  used  to  beam. 

Some  roam  abroad,  in  stranger  lands, 
Some,  in  the  quiet  grave,  lie  low ; 

The  tyrant  Time,  with  stealthy  hands, 

Has  parted  many  tender  bands, 
That  bound  me  long  ago. 


CAUSE    AND    EFFECT.  33 

CAUSE  AND  EFFECT : 

OR,    HOW    THEY    THREW    THEMSELVES    AW4.Y. 
"  Touch  not — taste  not." 

Two  pair  of  eyes,  by  Fate's  design, 

Did  meet  with  flashes  tender — 
One  pair  was  of  the  masculine, 

And  one  the  female  gender. 
Enraptured,  each  in  each  would  gleam — 

Some  potent  spell  commanding — • 
Both  drinking  from  the  heart-born  stream 

Of  sweetest  understanding. 
I  cannot  say  their  owners  tried 

Each  budding  thought  to  smother, 
Or  if  they  felt  a  thrill  of  pride 

In  thinking  of  each  other  ] 
But  who  had  heard  the  struggling  sigh, 

And  marked  their  glances  stealing, 
Were  dull  in  wit  could  not  descry 

The  unconscious  soul's  revealing. 
The  laws  of  temperance  they  did  shame 

By  this  wild  contemplation, 
Till  helpless  victims  both  became 

To  loves  intoxication. 
At  last  so  closely  drew  the  snare 

Of  passion's  magic  tether, 
They  formed  the  rash  resolve  to  share 

Love's  nect'rous  cup  forever  ! 


34  SING   ME  THAT   SWEfcT    SONG   AGAIN. 


SING  ME  THAT  SWEET  SONG  AGAIN. 


"  To  leave  an  echo  that  might  seem, 
The  serial  music  of  a  dream." 


Oh,  sing  that  little  song  again  ! 

The  song  you  sang  when  last  we  met ; 
Some  echoes  of  its  pleasing  strain 

Are  lingering  in  my  spirit  yet — 
As  when  at  night  the  moonlit  lake 

Is  wakened  from  its  passive  sleeping, 
And  its  waves  in  music  break 

Shoreward  by  the  breezes  sweeping — 
So  thy  song  a  soft  commotion 

Wakes  on  memory's  silent  shore, 
And  recollection's  spirit-ocean 

Moves  its  sleeping  tides  once  more. 

Then  sing  that  little  song  again, 

I  love  to  drink  its  cadence  in, 
Oh,  there's  a  magic  in  its  strain 

Rich  treasure  from  the  past  to  win  ! 
Dear  faces  rise  before  my  view, 

With  bright  eyes  fondly  on  me  beaming, 


TO    A    SANCTIMONIOUS    BIGOT.  35 

And  scenes  that  in  the  past  I  knew, 
When  joyful  thoughts  were  ever  teeming. 

What  though  fleeting  be  the  vision, 
Bliss  on  earth  can  ne'er  remain; 

Yet  grant  once  more  the  joy  Elysian — 
Sing  me  that  sweet  song  again ! 


TO  A  SANCTIMONIOUS  BIGOT. 


Scorner  of  this  beauteous  earth, 

Blind  to  all  that's  bright  and  fair ; — 
Moaning  at  its  harmless  mirth, 

And  the  joys  thou  wilt  not  share  ; 
Could  you  be  to  heaven  lifted, 

How  you'd  groan  in  deep  despair, 
When  you  found  the  bright-robed  angels, 

Could  be  happy,  even  there  ! 


36  THE    DECAY  OF    BEAUTY. 


THE  DECAY  OF  BEAUTY 


She  once  was  beautiful  !  but  now 

Time's  deep'ning  marks  deform  her  brow: 

And  roses  that  were  blooming  fair, 

Upon  her  cheek  no  more  are  there. 

Yes,  she  was  beautiful  !  her  eye 

Was  like  the  clear  and  cloudless  sky,^- 

And  every  look  bespoke  the  mind 

Her  smooth  and  sunny  brow  enshrined. 

Her  form  possessed  that  perfect  grace 

The  sculptor  feels  a  joy  to  trace 

In  spotless  marble,  cold  and  still, 

With  cautious  hand  and  jealous  skill  :  — 

And  oh,  a  voice  more  soft  and  clear 

Ne'er  blest  the  spell-bound  listner's  ear. 

Oh  she  was  beautiful  !  but  now 

Upon  the  high  and  joy-lit  brow, 

Stern  time  has  passed  his  furrowing  share, 

And  left  his  hateful  records  there. 

The  roses  of  her  cheeks  are  dead  — 

The  lustre  of  her  eye  is  fled  ;  — 

And  in  her  dark  hair  you  may  view 

Some  silver  strangers  peeping  through  ;  — 


THE    DECAY    OF    BEAUTY.  37 

Those  guests  unwelcome  who  presage 
The  nearness  of  approaching  age. 

Oh,  is  there  aught  to  cheer  the  heart, 
When  beauty's  fleeting  charms  depart — 
Leaving  the  form  of  clay  they  deck, 
A  tarnished  shrine — a  crumbling  wreck  ? 
There  is  !  it  is  that  peace  of  mind 
None  but  the  good  can  ever  find  : — 
That  fadeless  sunshine  of  the  breast 
Which  soothes  the  world- worn  soul  to  rest ; 
This  sheds  for  her  its  holiest  rays. 
Blessing  her  life's  declining  days, 


38  A   FANCY   SKETCH. 


A  FANCY  SKETCH. 

"  Artis  ost  celare  artem." 

Her  brow  is  of  the  lily's  hue, 

Bedecked  with  jetty  curls  , 
Her  parted  lips  disclose  to  view 

Two  rows  of  shining  pearls. 

Her  eyes  like  sister  stars  appear — 

Twin  sister  stars  of  night ; 
When  beaming  from  their  azure  sphere, 

So  beautiful  and  bright. 

Her  lashes  like  the  inky  fringe 

Upon  the  raven's  plume  : 
Her  cheeks  possess  the  mellow  tinge 

Of  roses  in  their  bloom. 

The  sun  of  joy  for  me  would  shine 

Methinks  without  a  cloud  ; 
If  this  sweet  form  were  only  mine, 

With  mortal  life  endowed. 


THERE  ARE  STORMS  ON  LIFE'S  DARK  OCEAN.  39 


THERE  ARE  STORMS  ON  LIFE'S  DARK  OCEAN.' 


The  child  'neath  rosy  skies  of  morning, 

Trims  his  vessel's  tiny  sail  : 
His  joyous  laugh,  all  peril  scorning, 

Mingles  with  the  wooing  gale. 

He  dreameth  not  of  care  nor  sadness; 

The  world  to  him  is  fair  and  bright — 
High  his  bosom  swells  with  gladness ; 

Flowers  of  pleasure  bless  his  sight. 

Years  have  passed.     And  stern  emotion 
Sits  upon  that  changing  brow  : 

"  There  are  storms  on  life's  dark  ocean," 
He  must  learn  that  lesson  now. 

Years  have  passed.     That  bark  is  driving 

Bravely  on  its  swift  career ; 
The  youth  to  manhood  grown,  is  striving 

With  new  dangers  ever  near. 

Firm  his  hand  the  helm  is  guiding  ; 

He  is  watchful.     But  his  breast, 
Once  so  trustful  and  confiding, 

Now  with  care  is  deep  opprest. 


40  THERE  ARE  STORMS  ON  LIFE'S  DARK  OCEAN. 


Years  have  passed.  And  stern  emotion 
Broods  upon  his  world- worn  brow  ; 

u  There  are  storms  on  life's  dark  ocean," 
He  hath  learned  that  lesson  now. 

Years  have  passed.     Behold  that  battered 

Lonely  vessel  floating  past ; 
The  sails  are  torn,  the  spars  are  shattered 

By  the  lightning  and  the  blast. 

In  the  broken  bark  reposing, 
Mark  that  old  and  feeble  form ; 

His  busy  scenes  at  last  are  closing, 
Scenes  of  sunshine  and  of  storm. 

His  eyes  are  raised  in  calm  devotion — 
Faith  now  smoothes  his  aged  brow; 

"  There  are  storms  on  life's  dark  ocean," 
Well  he  knows  the  lesson  now. 


SING    FOR    ME.  41 


SING  FOR  ME, 


Sing  for  me  ! — strange  clouds  are  brooding 

Darkly  o'er  my  soul  to-night  ] 
Sing  ! — and  sombre  thoughts  intruding, 

Shall  thy  music  put  to  flight. 

Sing  for  me  ! — this  dark  commotion 
Thy  sweet  voice  shall  lull  to  rest — 

This  tumult  of  the  spirit-oceanr 
Raging  wildly  in  my  breast. 

Sing  me,  then,  some  song  of  gladness^ 
Some  sweet,  spirit-moving  strain  ; 

'Twill  dissolve  these  clouds  of  sadness, 
And  restore  my  peace  again. 


42       THERE'S  SOMETHING  GOOD  IN  EVERY  HEART. 


THERE'S  SOMETHING  GOOD  IN  EVERY  HEART. 


Would'st  win  the  crime-stained  wanderer  back, 
From  vice's  dark  and  hideous  track— 
Let  not  a  frown  thy  brow  deform, 
'Twill  add  but  fierceness  to  the  storm. 
Deal  kindly— in  that  bosom  dark 
Still  lingers  virtue's  glimmering  spark — 
Plead  with  him— 'tis  the  nobler  part, — 
There's  something  good  in  every  heart ! 
Bring  to  his  mind  the  early  time, 
E'er  sin  had  stained  his  soul  with  crime  ; 
When  fond  affection  bless'd  his  hours — 
And  strewed  his  joyous  path  with  flowers  j 
When  sportive  jest  and  harmless  glee 
Bespoke  a  spirit  pure  and  free  ; 

Plead  with  him — 'tis  the  nobler  part — 

There's  something  good  in  every  heart ! 

« 
There  was  a  time  that  head  did  rest, 

Close  to  a  mother's  yearning  breast — 
A  time  his  ear  the  precepts  caught, 
A  kind  and  virtuous  father  taught ; 
It  matters  not  what  treacherous  ray, 
First  lured  his  steps  from  virtue's  way — 
Enough  to  know  thou  yet  may'st  save 
The  soul  from  sin's  engulphing  wave. 
Plead  with  him — 'tis  the  nobler  part — 
There's  something  good  in  every  heart ! 


GENTLE    WORDS.  43 


GENTLE  WORDS. 


Scorn  to  speak  the  words  of  strife  — 

From  evil  good  can  seldom  flow  ; 
But  words  of  kindness  sweeten  life, 

And  change  to  friend  the  sternest  foe. 
Gentle  words  !  how  blest  they  are  ! 

Like  soft  dews  of  Hermon,  bringing 
Freshness  to  the  heart's  parterre, 

Where  flowers  of  thought  are  ever  springing, 
Be  it,  then,  our  zeal  to  cherish 

Kindly  feelings  ;  and  employ 
Gentle  words,  that  hate  may  perish  — 

Life  possess  a  deeper  joy  ! 


44  ON  THE  DEATH  OF    TWO    CHILDREN. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  TWO  CHILDREN. 


As  two  fair  buds  that  gaily  grew 

At  morning  in  the  bright  parterre, 
Expanding  'neath  the  genial  dew 

That  fell  so  lightly  on  them  there — 
But  blighted  ere  the  warming  sun 

Hath  yet  attained  his  noonday  reign, 
Destroying  hopes  that  scarce  begun 

To  spring  ere  yet  to  die  again — 
So  came  those  little  ones  to  cheer 

Like  angels  the  parental  hearth, 
Making  the  social  scene  more  dear 

By  cheerful  words  and  harmless  mirth  : 
The  spell  is  past — for  they  are  gone 

From  earth  and  all  its  joys  away — 
But  Faith  declares,  a  brighter  dawn 

Now  smiles  npon  an  endless  day ! 


WHEN    THE    NOISY    DAY   IS    DONE.  45 


WHEN  THE  NOISY  DAY  IS  DONE. 


When  the  noisy  day  is  done,  — 
And  the  twilight  shades  appear, 

And  the  stars  come,  one  by  one, 
Glittering  in  their  tranquil  sphere  ; 

Fancy  brings  thee  to  my  side,  — 

A  bright  and  fair  and  gentle  vision  ; 

And  the  moments  swiftly  glide, 

Fraught  with  hopes  and  joys  Elysian  ! 

And  I  clasp  thy  yielding  form  ;  — 
In  mine  eyes  thine  own  are  shining; 

Our  lips  are  pressed  in  kisses  warm  — 
Close  thine  arms  are  'round  me  twining, 

And  I  hear  thy  trembling  sigh,  — 
Like  the  zephyr  soft  and  fleeting  ;  — 

See  thy  blushes  mounting  high  — 
Feel  thy  heart  to  my  heart  beating. 

Are  these  prophetic  dreams  —  denoting 
Sun-bright  pleasures,  yet  to  beam  ? 

Or  like  the  transient  bubbles,  floating 
O'er  a  summer  stream  ? 


46  BE    TRUE   TO    ME. 


BE  TRUE  TO  ME. 


Be  true  to  me  ! 
Oh,  do  not  let  the  blaze 

Upon  the  altar  of  thy  heart  burn  low , 
But  nurse  with  fondest  zeal  its  blessed  rays, 
That  it  may  kindle  to  a  brighter  glow ! 
Be  true  to  me  ! 

Be  true  to  me  \ 
Be  as  the  STAR  that  burns 

Calm  and  unchanging  in  the  midnight  air ; 
When  unto  thee  my  wearied  spirit  turns 
For  sweet  repose  from  all  the  storms  of  care. 
Be  true  to  me  ! 

Be  true  to  me ; 
Not  always  may  the  bloom 

Of  hope  and  gladness  on  my  cheek  remain ; 
And  when  dark  thoughts  shall  shade  my  soul  with  gloom  j 
Thy  tender  accents  still  shall  soothe  my  pain, 
Be  true  to  me ! 

Be  true  to  me  ; 
Or,  like  the  hapless  bark, 

Without  its  compass,  on  some  stormy  sea — 
No  beacon-light  to  guide  it  through  the  dark — 
If  thou  prove  faithless,  will  existence  be ! 
Be  true  to  me  ! 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  DEATH  PENALTY.         47 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  DEATH  PENALTY. 


How  is  it  ?  when  you  doom  to  death 

Some  victim  for  his  crime- 
Accounting  him  not  fit  to  live, 

You  still  allow  him  time 
To  make  his  peace  with  God,  for  what 

Yourselves  will  not  forgive  ; 
Presuming  him  when  fit  to  die, 

As  not  yet  fit  to  live  ? 

Now,  though  he  be  not  fit  to  live, 

Is  he  prepared  to  die — 
Sent,  strangled  from  this  world  of  woe, 

Before  his  God  on  high  ? 
You  send  unto  his  darkened  soul 

Repentance  and  the  priest, 
And  when  reduced  to  penitence, 

You  hang  him  like  a  beast. 

How  can  you  know  just  how  much  time 

Your  victim  should  be  given, 
For  such  repentance  as  shall  send 

His  spirit  pure  to  heaven  ? 
Supporters  of  the  bloody  code, 

I  pause  for  a  reply  : 
How  is  it,  if  unfit  to  live, 

A  man  is  fit  to  die  1 


48 


HAVE    FAITH,    AND    PUSH    FORWARD. 


HAVE  FAITH,  AND  PUSH  FORWARD. 


Have  faith,  and  push  onward !  don't  get  in  a  fret  J 
No  good  ever  followed  from  fidgetting  yet ;, 
Though  thy  footsteps  to-day  be  by  evils  beset, 

Yet  never  surrender  to  sorrow. 
The  sternest  of  ills  have  an  end  to  their  stay ; 
For  like  clouds,  though  they  gather  and  darken  to-day, 
The  sunshine  of  gladness  will  chase  them  away, 

And  brighten  your  pathway  to-morrow. 

On  the  chess-board  of  life,  while  we  struggle  and  fight, 
We're  as  oft  on  the  black  side  as  on  the  fair  white  ; 
Yet  let  us  push  forward  with  courage  and  might, 

Confronting  the  ills  that  may  gather. 
To  the  fretful  and  timid,  life's  burden  of  care 
Seems  more  than  the  shoulders  of  Atlas  would  dare  ; 
But  to  those  who  its  crosses  enduringly  bear, 

'Tis  as  much  like  the  weight  of  a  feather. 


A   SIMPLE   QUESTION. 


49 


A  SIMPLE  QUESTION. 


What  have  I  done,  that  you.  should  ever 

Haunt  rne  so  ? 
I  never  said  I  loved  you — never, 

Scissors !  No ! 

In  my  mind,  all  day  are  roving 

Thoughts  of  thee  ;— 
Like  summer  zephyrs,  ever  moving 

Restlessly.  ,, 

Indeed,  I  think  it  quite  outrageous, — 

Yes,  I  do ; — 
That  I  must  even  in  my  slumbers, 

Think  of  you. 

Wherefore  always  doth  thy  image 

Form  a  part 
Of  every  scene  of  joy  and  beauty 

In  my  heart  ? 

The  sunbeam  and  the  scented  flower, — 

The  whispering  wind, — 
Bring  thee  every  passing  hour, 

To  my  mind. 


50  A  SIMPLE  QUESTION. 

Like  a  fair  and  shadowy  vision, 

Oft  you  come  ; — 
And  you  are.  my  fond  heart  whispers, 

"Pumpkins  some." 

I  pray  you  tell  me  why  you  ever 

Plague  me  thus  ] — 
Kicking  up  within  my  bosom, 

Such  a  fuss  ? 

And  now,  when  I  address  a  lady, 

Not  a  doubt, 
But  that  instead  of  her  cognomen, 

Yours  pops  out. 

Time,  they  say,  is  quite  a  soother, — 

That  he  flings 
In  his  flight  oblivious  ether 

From  his  wings, 

But  in  this  case  I  have  found  him 

Useless  quite ; 
Instead  of  dimming,  he  increases 

Memory's  light. 

Fve  praised  your  form,  face,  voice,  and  music, 

And  all  that; 
And  you  can,  for  your  songs  melodious. 

"  Take  my  hat !" 


A    SKETCH   OF    IMAGINATION.  51 


Have  I  done  aught  to  make  you  haunt  me 

Always  so  ? 
For  gracious  sake,  I  wish  you'd  tell  me : 

Yes,  or  No ! 


A  SKETCH  OF  IMAGINATION. 


Upon  the  cushioned  couch  she  lies, 
Wrapped  in  slumber's  sweet  repose  : 

How  softly  o'er  her  shaded  eyes 
The  long,  dark  silken  lashes  close ! 

Partly  hid  in  flowing  hair, 

One  arm  'neath  her  head  is  resting  : 

Angel-like  she  seemeth  there, 

Blissful  dreams  her  sleep  investing — 

Dreams  of  love  !     Her  white  breast,  swelling, 
Burns  with  passion's  purest  flame  ; 

And  now  her  smile-wreathed  lips  are  telling- 
Joyful  heart ! — the  lov'd  one's  name  ! 


52  AN   ODE    TO    THE    NEW    YEAR. 


AN  ODE  TO  THE  NEW  YEAR. 


A  Happy  New  Year  !  friends,  the  sun 

Has  ushered  in  another  year  ; 
Oh !  let  us  thank  the  Holy  One 

For  life  and  friends,  and  kindred  dear; 
Let  gratitude  within  the  heart, 

Like  some  out-gushing  fountain  flow ; — 
And  from  the  lips,  thanksgiving  start, 

For  God's  rich  blessings  here  below. 

If  lingering  memories  of  the  strife 

Of  bye-past  scenes  thy  heart  retain, 
Dismiss  them  now;— for  surely  life 

Hath  more  of  pleasure  than  of  pain. 
If  man  to  man  but  true  would  be, 

This  world  an  EDEN  yet  might  prove  j 
Then  wrong  and  vile  deceit  would  flee, 

And  naught  remain  but  truth  and  love. 

Oh !  there  are  signs  that  tell 

There's  not  a  passing  hour 
But  the  world  increaseth  well 

In  knowledge,  truth,  and  power ; — 
That  right  shall  conquer  wrong ; — 


AN    ODE    TO    THE    NEW    YEAR.  53 

And  shed  her  streaming  light 
O'er  all  the  groping  forms  that  throng 

Through  Error's  darksome  night ; — 
That  Truth's  bright  banner  yet  shall  wave 
O'er  Falsehood's  ignominious  grave. 
Yes,  gentle-folks,  the  day  is  here — 

The  day  of  pleasure,  feast,  and  mirth  : 
It  comes  you  know  but  "  once  a  year" 

To  bless  our  little  earth ; 
To  fill  with  gladness  loving  hearts, 

Around  the  social  hearth. 
Hurrah !  then,  for  the  merriest  day 

Of  all  days  in  the  year ; 
When  young  eyes  shed  a  brighter  ray, 

And  friends  seem  yet  more  dear  j 
Hurrah !  there's  always  some  fun  left 

Life's  weary  path  to  cheer ! 

The  past  is  nothing  but  the  past, — 

No  more  may  we  recall 
The  forms  around  whom  Death  hath  cast 

His  cold  and  gloomy  pall ; 
Then  let  us  guard  our  truant  thoughts 

From  sorrow's  cankering  thrall. 

Let  joy  like  sun-rays  sweetly  smile 

Unchecked  upon  the  brow — - 
Why  should  the  features  be  deformed 

By  Care's  deep  furrowing  plough  ? — 


54 


AN    ODE    TO    THE    NEW    YEAR. 


Why  should  the  pust  our  thoughts  beguile  ? 

The  present  claims  them  now. 
Oh,  life,  at  the  best 

Is  a  hurrying  tide — 
And  smiles  are  the  roses 

That  bloom  by  its  side  ; 
And  Hope  is  the  sunshine 

That  opens  the  flowers ; 
And  Care,  the  dark  storm-cloud 

That  fearfully  lowers. 

Ah !  then,  if  existence 

Is  like  the  swift  tide, 
Let  us  bask  in  its  sunshine 

As  onward  we  glide. 

Hurrah !  for  the  season  of  feasting  and  mirth — 
Praise  to  God  for  the  joy  that  still  blesses  the  earth ! 

Great  country,  this  !  in  every  land 
Our  starry  flag  floats  fair  and  free  j 

Our  merchants  every  clime  command, 
Our  keels  are  ploughing  every  sea. 

The  Gospel  finds  its  genial  home 

In  this  bright  land  of  ours ; 
Its  influence,  like  the  dews  that  come 

To  cheer  the  thirsting  flowers. 

Here  valor's  bravest  warriors  rise 
To  vindicate  their  nation's  right ; 


AN    ODE    TO    THE    NEW    YEAR.  55 

And  here  oppression's  victim  flies 
From  foreign  tyrant's  lordly  might. 

And  here  are  open  heart  sand  hands 
As  God's  bright  sun  e'er  shone  upon  j 

Who  send  relief  to  starving  lands, 
While  royalty  looks  coldly  on. 

Here  Virtue,  Talent,  Genius,  all 

A  sure  protection  with  us  find ', 
We  own  no  tyrants'  jealous  thrall 

To  fetter  down  the  soaring  mind. 

The  PRESS  bestows  its  ceaseless  care, 

To  teach  the  willing  mind  ] — 
Its  missives  floating  everywhere 

As  leaves  upon  the  wind. 

And  where  its  printed  pages  fall — 

In  mansion,  hut,  or  mart, — 
They  bring  rich  lessons  unto  all, 

And  gladden  many  a  heart. 

Once  more,  a  Happy  New  Year  !  may 

Prosperity's  bright  star  illume 
Your  path  of  life,  where  e'er  you  stray, 

And  flowers  of  hope  forever  bloom. 


56  LOVE    ONE    ANOTHER. 


LOVE  ONE  ANOTHER. 


"  And  oh  !  if  those  who  cluster  round 

The  altar  and  the  hearth, 
Have  gentle  words  and  loving  smiles, 

How  beautiful  is  earth !" 


Oh,  love  one  another  !  for  surely  this  life 
Hath  sorrows  enough  without  hatred  and  strife ; 
Sweet  fragrance,  like  flowers,  kind  words  ever  bring, 
And  hallow  the  bosom's  parterre  where  they  spring. 

Why  not  love  one  another  ?  'tis  better  by  far 
To  live  'neath  the  banner  of  peace  than  of  war ! 
From  thy  heart  brush  the  clouds  of  contention  away, 
And  within  its  dark  chambers  let  peace  shed  her  ray  ! 

And  as  lovely  and  calm  as  a  poet's  bright  dream, 
Thy  passage  of  life  shall  become  in  her  beam: 
Kind  words  are  like  seed  by  the  husbandman  cast — 
That  spring  up  and  return  a  rich  harvest  at  last. 

Only  love  one  another !  who  knows  but  what  then 
We  may  make  this  wild  world  a  bright  Eden  again  ? 
We  have  only  to  try  it — how  much  of  its  sin 
Springs  from  hatred  and  envy  !  then  let  us  begin 

To  uproot  from  our  hearts  friendship's  deadliest  foe, 
That  still  chokes  the  sweet  flowers  of  love  as  they  grow 
Let  us  love  one  another  !     Life's  noble  estate 
Should  ne'er  be  profaned  by  contention  and  hate. 


57 


KISSING. 


"  Give  me  a  kiss,  O  Miss,  a  kiss ! 

Give  me  a  kiss,  O  Miss  ! 
Give  me  a  kiss  !  a  kiss,  O  Miss ! 
Give  me,  O  Miss,  a  kiss  !" 

••'  And  let  its  thrill  be  mutual." 


Some  kiss  but  when  it  is  their  duty, 

Some  will  kiss  to  gain  them  booty, 

Some  to  win  a  trifling  trinket — 

Though  "  for  fun"  they'd  have  you  think  it, 

Some  kiss  from  careless  inclination, 

Some  from  love's  sweet  captivation, 

Some  wait  until  they  are  besought  to, 

Some  only  when  they  think  they  ought  to, 

But  my  resistless  impulse  to  it, 

Is  based  on  ' cause  ifs  nice  to  do  it! 


58  A  SONNET — TO  THE  MOON. 


SONNET— TO  THE  MOON. 


"When  Phoebe  doth  behold 
Her  silv'ry  visage  in  the  watery  glass, 
Decking  with  liquid  pearl  the  bladed  grass." 


Hail  gentle  Moon  !     Bright  empress  of  the  night ! 
Sweet  Moon,  I  love  thee  !     Not  the  earnest  heart 
That  throbs  with  joy  in  some  appointed  place, 
When  the  expected  loved  one  cheers  the  sight, 
May  feel  a  deeper  thrill  of  rapture  start 
Than  I,  sweet  Moon,  to  greet  thy  pleasant  face, 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  ever  constant  be, 
Though  loves  of  earth  the  chill  of  coldness  feel — 
Still  changing  with  the  breath  of  circumstance, 
And  all  the  various  influences  that  steal 
The  bloom  and  freshness  of  affection's  glance ; 
Yet  thou  can'st  never  be  estranged  from  me. 
Oh,  holier  lessons  hast  thou  taught  my  heart, 
Than  this  world's  shallow  creeds  can  e'er  impart. 


EVENING! A    SONNET.  59 


EVENING— A  SONNET. 

"  Then  came  still  evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 
Had  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad." 

How  passing  sweet  the  quiet  evening  hour  ! — 
When  the  fierce  day-god  sinks  away  from  view, 
And  stars  come  peeping  from  their  vault  of  blue  : 

How  through  the  tranquil  sense,  with  sacred  power, 
The  solemn,  soothing  silence  sweetly  steals; 

And  crowding  thoughts  that  vex'd  the  heart  by  day, 

Unfold  their  viewless  wings  and  soar  away. 
Oh,  'tis  the  season  when  the  poet  feels 

His  deepest  inspiration  !     And  the  ray 
Of  high  intelligence,  with  clearer  gleam, 

Illuminates  his  soul,  whose  glorious  stream 

Of  deathless  beauty  sparkles  'neath  the  beam. 
Oh,  yes,  thrice  blessed  is  the  evening  time, 
Whose  holy  influence  fills  the  soul  with  impulses 
*       sublime ! 


60  VIRTUE'S  EVERGREEN. 


VIRTUE'S  EVERGREEN. 


The  lilied  brow,  the  rosy  cheek, 

Where  beaming  smiles  of  beauty  play, 
Are  transient  things  : — they  but  beguile, 
As  April's  bland  and  fickle  smile : — 
They  charm  us  with  their  light  awhile, 
Then  fade  at  last  away : 

Then  fade  at  last  away  !     The  form 
So  beautiful  in  youth's  gay  prime, 
Must  shrivel  up — the  hair  turn  gray — 
The  eye  abate  its  lustrous  ray — 
The  smooth  and  pearly  teeth  decay — 
Beneath  the  touch  of  Time. 

Beneath  the  touch  of  Time  !     A  prize 

There  is  he  cannot  touch,  I  ween : 
It  bloometh  always  fair  and  bright, 
Through  Spring's  warm  day  or  Winter's  night, 
A  plant  his  hand  can  never  blight — 
'Tis  Virtue's  Evergreen  ! 


ABSENT  FRIENDS.  61 


ABSENT  FRIENDS. 


Oh,  absent  friends  !     Our  hearts  retain, 

With  changeless  love,  your  memories  dear ; 
We  long  to  clasp  your  hands  again, 

Your  tones  of  music  yearn  to  hear. 
The  vacant  pew — the  silent  home — 

The  walk  at  eve,  when  stars  were  burning, 
Where  so  oft  we  loved  to  roam — 

Seem  to  mourn  your  far  sojourning. 
Now,  if  joy  would  cheer  the  breast, 

Longing  thoughts  are  still  intruding  j 
And,  in  haunts  your  presence  blest, 

Seem  your  silent  spirits  brooding. 
Time  rolls  on !     Your  glad  returning 

For  the  past  shall  make  amends ; 
For  love's  undying  light  is  burning 

Bright,  to  welcome  absent  friends ! 


62  TO   A   CAPTIOUS    CRITIC. 


TO  A  CAPTIOUS  CRITIC. 


Suppress  the  wayward  impulse  of  thy  heart, 
Nor  play  the  captious  critic's  thankless  part — 
For  mists  of  selfish  pride  and  envy  blind 
Thy  better  judgment,  and  obscure  thy  mind  j 
The  meed  of  praise  that's  to  the  author  due, 
Can  ne'er  be  turned  aside,  dear  sir,  by  you; 
'Tis  vain  to  waste  your  shafts  in  fruitless  aim — 
They  come  not  near  the  target  of  his  fame  ! 


THE   APPOINTMENT.  63 


THE  APPOINTMENT. 


Say,  shall  we  meet  at  evening,  love, 
When  the  silvery  moon  rides  high, — 

And  the  bright-edged  clouds  are  floating 
Through  the  blue  and  starry  sky  ? 

Oh !  there's  magic  in  the  stillness,  love, 
Of  the  soft  and  solemn  night : — • 

Yet,  a  deeper  spell  in  thy  voice  doth  dwell, 
And  thy  dark  eyes  glancing  bright. 

And  we'll  choose  amid  those  sparkling  worlds 

'Neath  yon  cerulean  dome, — 
Of  all  so  fair,  the  loveliest  there, 

To  be  our  future  home. 

A  home  where  all  is  peace  and  love, 

Nor  care  may  come,  nor  pain  ; 
Where  angels  wake  their  golden  harps, 

In  one  undying  strain. 

Then,  lot  us  meet  at  evening,  love, 

When  the  silvery  moon  rides  high, — 
And  bright-edged  clouds  are  floating 
Through  the  blue  and  starry  sky. 


64 


HOPE    ON. 


HOPE  ON. 


Hope  on !  how  oft  the  fairest  night, 

Precedes  the  fairest  day  ! 
Oh  guard  thy  soul  from  sorrow's  blight — 
Clouds  may  obscure  the  day  god's  light, 
Yet  shines  it  still  as  clear  and  bright, 

When  they  have  passed  away. 

Hope  on !  though  disappointment's  wings 

Above  thy  path  should  soar  ; 
Though  slander  drive  her  rankling  stings, 
Though  malice  all  her  venom  brings — 
Though  festering  darts  detraction  flings — 
Still  must  the  storm  pass  o'er. 

If  slave  to  poverty  thou  art, 

Bear  bravely  with  thy  lot : 
Though  keen  her  galling  chains  may  smart, 
Strive  still  to  rend  their  links  apart; 
Hope  on !  for  the  desponding  heart, 

God  surely  loveth  not. 

Hope  on  !  Hope  on  !  though  drear  and  dark, 
Thy  future  may  appear; 


HOPE    ON.  65 


The  sailor,  in  his  storm-toss' d  bark, 
Still  guides  the  helm,  and  hopes  to  mark, 
Amid  the  gloom  some  beacon  spark, 
His  dangerous  way  to  cheer. 

Though  wealth  take  wings,  or  friends  forsake, 
Be  not  by  grief  opprcst : —     ^  , 

Stern  Winter  binds  with  ice  the  lake — 

But  genial  Spring  its  bands  shall  break ; 

Hope  on  !  a  firmer  purpose  take, 
And  leave  to  God  the  rest. 


66  TO    JULIA. 


TO  JULIA. 


'Tis  sweet  to  feel  the  fanning  gale 

Of  Spring  upon  the  cheek, 
As,  dancing  from  the  flowery  vale 
It  comes,  o'er  hill  and  scented  dale, 

Of  rosy  health  to  speak. 

Yet  sweeter,  from  thy  parted  lips 

An  incense  breathes  for  me, 
Than  flowers,  where  the  wild  bee  sips — 
Or  humming-bird  so  restless  dips 

His  tiny  bill  in  glee. 

I  love  to  hear  the  silvery  notes 

Of  redbreast  in  the  grove, 
When  morn  has  broken  night's  dark  chain, 
And  nature  wakes  refresh'd  again 

To  bid  us  live  and  love. 

Yet  still — a  dearer  charm  than  these 

Can  to  my  sense  impart — 
Lives  in  the  music  of  thy  voice, 
Bidding  my  throbbing  breast  rejoice — 

Thou  lov'd  one  of  my  heart ! 


THE  NEW  YEAR.  67 


THE  NEW  YEAR. 


A  happy  New- Year !     Oh  what  thoughts 

Those  simple  words  excite ; 
Of  childhood's  time,  when  friends  were  true, 

And  pleasure's  links  were  bright. 

And  bye-gone  scenes  again  we  view, 

In  memory's  purest  light ; 
Like  the  soft  rays  of  twinkling  stars, 

Seen  through  a  clouded  night. 

When  we  could  hail  the  stranger  year 

With  loud  and  joyous  voice  ; 
And  every  hour  had  some  sweet  charm, 

To  bid  the  heart  rejoice. 

Oh !  how  the  impatient  spirit  longed 

To  cast  by  childhood's  toys — 
To  brave  alone  life's  tempting  path, 

And  revel  'midst  its  joys. 

And  have  those  early  dreams  proved  true  ? 

Does  Hope's  unfading  tree, 
Yield  now  the  fruit  that  blossom' d  bright 

In  years  of  revelry  ? 


68  THE  NEW  YEAR. 


Can  we  review  the  flowery  paths, 
Where  once  we  loved  to  stray, 

And  think  not  of  some  gentle  one, 
Forever  passed  away  ? 

Hath  love  retained  each  brilliant  hue 
Through  sunshine  and  through  shade  ? 

Has  it  not  faded,  e'en  as  breath 
Upon  the  polished  blade  ? 

Have  we  not  learned  how  earthly  hopes 

May  perish  in  their  bloom  1 
And  but  beguile  us  with  their  hues, 

As  flowers  upon  a  tomb  ? 

Have  we  not  seized  Joy's  glittering  cup, 

With  eagerness  to  sip  ? 
Has  Disappointment's  envious  hand 

Not  dashed  it  from  the  lip  ? 

What  though  these  bitter  memories 
Cause  tear  and  sigh  to  start  ? 

Still  do  they  yield  a  holy  balm 
Unto  the  chastened  heart. 

A  useful  lesson  may  be  learned, 

From  each  dark  scene  we've  trod  j — 

They  whisper  of  our  helplessness — 
They  bring  us  nearer  God  ? 


TO   MARY.  69 


TO  MARY. 


My  muse,  I  wish  thine  aid  again, 
Oh  let  me  call  thee  not  in  vain, 

I  really  need  ye  ! 

I  long  once  more  thy  smiles  to  woo  — 
Bid  thy  dear  sisters  then  adieu, 

And  hither  speed  ye  ! 

Now,  she  whose  charms  I  would  indite, 
Is  lovely  as  the  star  of  night  — 

A  spotless  gemj 

If  ever  form  that  claimed  its  birth 
Above,  came  down  to  dwell  on  earth, 

She's  one  of  them  ! 

The  day-god,  as  he  sinks  to  rest, 

Hath  not  more  calmness  than  her  breast  ', 

Where  not  a  cloud 
E'er  hovers  round  to  dim  the  stream 
Of  life  that  seems  a  music-dream, 

No  gloom  shall  shroud. 

This  is  a  prolix  style  to  write 
A  character  ;  perhaps  it  might 
Save  much  tautology, 


70  TO    MARY. 


To  adopt  a  scientific  way, — 

More  brief  than  similes  portray  : — 

And  that's  phrenology. 
I'll  now  commence  with  Hope,  and  say, 
This  organ  forms  'gainst  care's  dark  sway 

A  shining  targe ; 
And  Veneration  joined  with  this, 
Gives  sweet  belief  in  future  bliss, — 

She  has  them  large. 
Numbers,  I  think,  the  various  grades 
Of  character,  in  all  its  shades, 

Will  best  express ; 
Well.  Caution,  5 — five  plus,  perhaps, 
Would  Fowler  mark  it  on  his  maps ; 

'  TVs  m ore  or  less. 

Them  Memory  6  ; — that  casket  where 
Are  treasured  gems  more  rich  and  rare 

Than  mines  contain  : 
Deprived  of  which,  existence  were 
One  dreary,  wild,  chaotic  jar — 

A  stormy  rain. 

Secretiveness  is  small  indeed, 
A  little  more  might  Mary  need — 

It  hath  its  use ; 

Cunning,  'tis  true,  the  heart  distorts, 
Yot  too  mnch  candor  often  courts 

The  world's  abuse. 


TO   MARY.  71 


Tune  large — 6  plus ;  how  soft  and  clear 
Her  mellow  tones  salute  the  ear, 

I  can  attest } 

When  joy  departs,  and  mirth  grows  dull, 
What  harp  hath  power  like  her's  to  lull 

The  soul  to  rest. 

Order  quite  large — there's  none  more  neat — 
'Tis  7,  for  it  projects  a  feet ; 

Small  Ideality — 

Her  visions  come  in  simplest  dress, 
And  high  wrought  fancies  move  her  less 

Than  plain  reality. 
Conibativeness  is  small — yet  still 
Enough  she  has  for  stedfast  will, 

But  not  to  strive ; 
Too  gentle,  she,  to  seek  a  place 
In  competition's  envious  race — 

I'll  mark  her  5. 

Benevolence  full.     I've  seen  it  start 
The  tear  that  told  a  kindly  heart 

Beat  warm  within ; 
With  qualities  like  these  combined, 
How  smooth  life's  path !  how  pure  the  mind  ! 

How  free  from  sin ! 


72  A    SERENADE. 


A  SERENADE. 


Come,  love,  to  me,  at  the  silent  hour, 
When  the  moon  beams  bright  above, 

And  nought  but  the  bat  on  the  ruined  tower, 

Or  katydid  in  her  tiny  bower, 
May  list  to  our  words  of  love. 

When  twinkling  stars  in  the  blue  expanse 

Like  some  fairy  watchfires  glow  j 
And  shed  a  light  as  they  leap  and  dance 
As  bright  as  the  gleam  of  a  warrior's  lance 
In  the  gurgling  brook  below. 

On  some  mossy  bank  our  seat  shall  be, 

Where  the  tender  cowslip  grows  ; 
The  owl  will  flee  from  the  blighted  tree, 
When  thy  merry  laugh,  so  wild  and  free, 
Shall  startle  his  repose. 

On  the  balmy  air  thy  lute  shall  swell 

With  its  lingering  tones  of  love 
Whose  fading  echoes  will  seem  to  dwell 
In  ihe  shadowy  nook  or  flowery  dell 

Where  fairy  spirits  rove. 


A   SERENADE.  73 


Then  come  to  me  at  the  silent  hour. 
When  the  moon  beams  bright  above, 

And  nought  but  the  bat  in  the  ruined  tower, 

Or  katydid  in  her  tiny  bower, 
May  list  to  our  words  of  love. 


74  TO  MARY. 


TO  MARY. 


Bright  as  the  crimson  blush  of  summer  rose, 
That  smiles  in  beauty  from  its  parent  tree, 

Wooing  the  passing  zephyr  as  it  goes 
Laden  with  fragrance  o'er  the  spicy  lea, 

Are  the  rich  tints  on  Mary's  cheeks  that  glow, 
Expressing  in  their  melting  hues 
The  pure  warm  heart  below. 

Rich  as  the  wild  note  that  the  red-breast  flings 
At  early  morn  upon  the  perfumed  breeze, 

When  every  lingering  echo  sweetly  rings 

In  blended  cadence  with  the  whispering  trees, 

Are  Mary's  flute-like  tones,  that  seem  to  start 

A  thrill  of  rapture  strange  and  wild 
In  every  list'ner's  heart. 

Clear  as  the  gem  that  gleams  in  regal  crown, 

Is  the  soft  lustre  of  her  love-lit  eye  j 
And  like  the  snow-flake  that  comes  flickering  down 

Undimmed  and  stainless,  from  its  native  sky, 
Is  the  bright  soul,  in  truth  and  beauty  drest, 
That  claims  its  loveliest,  blest  abode, 

In  Mary's  gentle  breast. 


I   LOVE    THE    STILL   EVENING,  75 


I  LOVE  THE  STILL  EVENING. 


I  love  the  still  evening ! 

It  lulleth  to  rest, 
The  world-cares  that  wander 

By  day  through  the  breast. 
How  gently  it  cometh, 

With  soft-fanning  wings  j 
What  joy  to  the  toil  worn, 

Its  quietness  brings. 

I  love  the  still  evening ! 

It  seems  to  impart 
A  deep  sense  of  devotion 

And  peace  to  the  heart ; 
And  what  lessons  are  taught  us, 

Of  wisdom  and  love, 
By  the  soft  gleaming  stars, 

In  their  archway  above. 

I  love  the  still  evening ! 

'Tis  then  are  upcast, 
By  sweet  memory's  wand, 

Treasured  scenes  of  the  past. 


76  I    LOVE    THE    STILL   EVENING. 

Yes,  in  winter,  or  summer, 
Whiche'er  it  may  be, 

The  evening-time  always 
Is  pleasant  to  me. 

I  love  the  still  evening  ! 

Our  better  thoughts  stray, 
In  the  noise,  and  the  glare, 

And  excitement  of  day : 
But  the  truant's  returning, 

How  gladly  we  greet, 
When  the  evening-time  bringeth 

Tranquility  sweet. 

-.     I  love  the  still  evening  ! 

'Tis  then  for  awhile, 
The  vain  heart  may  forget 

Its  deception  and  guile. 
Yes,  a  deep  inspiration 

To  evening  is  given, 
To  soften  our  nature — 

To  win  us  to  heaven  ! 


SWEET  GIRL  I  THINK  OF  THEE. 


SWEET  GIRL  I  THINK  OF  THEE. 


When  sinks  the  sun  behind  the  hill, 

And  shadows  creep  from  tower  and  tree, 

And  all  is  still  save  trickling  rill, 
Sweet  girl  I  think  of  thee. 

Or  when  in  pleasure's  halls  I  stray, 
Whatever  I  hear — whate'er  I  see, 

Can  lend  no  charms  if  thou'rt  away, 
Sweet  girl  I  think  of  thee. 

E'en  though  I  gaze  on  other  forms 
As  fair  as  thine — with  hearts  as  free, 

A  brighter  spell  my  bosom  warms — 
Sweet  girl  I  think  of  thee. 

What  though  upon  my  listening  ear 
Soft  accents  fall,  or  words  of  glee  ? 

My  heart  is  thine  ! — thou  need'st  not  fear — 
Sweet  girl  I  think  of  thee. 

For  vainly  may  their  glances  dart — 
What  is  their  trembling  palms  to  me  ? 

Thy  image  only  fills  my  heart — 
Sweet  girl  I  think  of  thee. 


78  TIME. 


TIME. 


But  a  few  brief  days  and  another  year 

In  eternity's  gulf  will  fall ; 

The  heart  must  learn,  though  it  thrill  with  fear, 
As  each  deed  in  the  past's  dark  wave  shines  clear, 

That  a  change  cometh  over  all. 

Time  mingleth  white  in  the  glossy  hair, 

And  he  saddens  the  laughing  brow, 
And  the  roses  that  bloomed  so  bright  and  fair 
On  beauty's  cheeks,  no  more  are  there, — 

They  are  pallid  and  sunken  now. 

Time  ever  with  noiseless  step  steals  on, 

And  he  dealeth  alike  with  all  j 
He  gives  to  the  palace  where  beauty  shone, 
The  creeping  vine  and  the  crumbling  stone, 

And  to  man  the  shroud  and  pall. 

He  causeth  the  mourner's  bitterest  tear ; 

Robbeth  earth  of  its  truest  bliss  : 

* 

Full  many  a  form  to  the  heart  most  dear, 
With  sweet  music-lips  that  we  loved  to  hear. 
Has  he  chilled  with  his  icy  kiss. 


TIME.  79 

On  the  canvass  we  gaz«  with  a  pleasing  thrill 

Or  the  sculptured  stone  display ; 
But  the  warm  applause  to  the  artist's  skill, 
He  hears  not  now — and  his  hand  is  still, 

And  crumbling  to  decay. 

The  beggar  in  rags,  and  the  jewelled  brow, — 

The  wise — the  rich — the  great : 
To  the  despot's  sceptre  must  surely  bow — 
Must  bear  the  marks  of  his  furrowing  plough, 

Must  meet  the  unchanging  fate. 

Yet  lessons  of  wisdom  we  still  may  learn, 

From  the  past  and  the  grave's  green  sod 
And  though  sorrow  o'erfloweth  the  heart's  cold  urn, 
All  chastened  and  soothed  the  spirit  will  turn, 
To  duty— to  faith— to  God ! 


80  LINES    TO   MISS    C.    M.    B. 


LINES  TO  MISS  C.  M.  B., 

OF    ROCHESTER. 


Cousin !  a  charm  dwells  in  the  word, 

'Tis  music  to  the  ear ; 
The  magic  tones  of  the  summer  bird, 
Whose  strains  mid  leafy  boughs  are  heard, 

Fall  not  more  sweet  and  dear. 

And  yet  we  both  are  strangers  coz, 

We  ne'er  have  even  met; 
Our  homes  are  cast  far,  far  apart, 
Thy  absence  ne'er  could  in  my  heart, 

Awake  one  sad  regret. 

The  blind  may  hear  how  bright  the  orb, 

On  which  he  ne'er  can  gaze; 
But  cannot  feel,  in  endless  night, 
What  exstacy  one  moment's  sight, 

To  view  his  golden  rays ! 

They  tell  me  of  thy  gentle  heart, 

So  pure — so  free  from  guile ; 
What  sunny  gleams  thy  glances  dart, 
The  joy  thy  presence  can  impart, — 

The  sweetness  of  thy  smile. 


LINES    TO    MISS    C.   M.    B. 


81 


And  busy  fancy  oft  displays 

Thine  image  to  ray  view ; 
But  still  I  hope  to  hear  thy  voice, 
And  in  thy  beaming  smiles  rejoice — 

So  dearest  coz — adieu! 


82  THE    INVITATION. 


THE  INVITATION. 


Oh  come,  sweet  maiden,  forth  with  me, 

The  evening  flower  has  blown  ; 
And  calmly  smiles  the  queen  of  night, 
And  the  azure  arch  is  rich  with  light 
Of  glistening  stars,  more  pure  and  bright 
Than  gems  on  a  monarch's  throne. 

Soft  moonlight  streams  upon  the  plain, 

The  grain  is  waving  free  ; 
The  breeze  a  balmy  fragrance  brings, 
Bright  insects  float  on  silken  wings, 
In  secret  nook  the  cricket  sings, 

Its  little  song  of  glee. 

How  sweetly  fall  at  such  an  hour 

The  low-toned  words  of  love  ; 
The  eyes  with  deeper  rapture  meet, 
And  throbbing  hearts  more  fondly  beat, 
And  love's  close  kiss  is  still  more  sweet, 
When  stars  are  bright  above. 


THE    INVITATION.  83 


Then  come  dear  maiden  forth  with  me, 

The  evening  flower  has  blown  j 
And  calmly  smiles  the  queen  of  night, 
And  the  azure  sky  is  rich  with  light 
Of  gleaming  stars,  more  pure  and  bright 
Than  gems  on  a  monarch's  throne. 


84  LINES  TO 


LINES  TO 


Sweet  girl,  'tis  not  because  thine  eyes,  like  diamonds, 

sparkle  bright, 
Nor  yet  thy  fair  and  faultless  form,  or  footsteps  free  and 

light: 
Nor  silvery  voice  which  sweetly  falls,  as  music  on  mine 

ear; 
It  is  not  these,  alone,  that  chain  my  thoughts  when  thou 

art  near. 

A  bright,  bewitching  smile  is  thine,  which,  like  some 

heavenly  beam, 
Hath  power  to  dispel  the  gloom,  that  clouds  life's  fitful 

dream ; 
Yet  radiant  beauty's  winning  charms,  all  potent  though 

they  be, 
Could  not,  alone,  have  wrought  the  spell  which  binds  my 

heart  to  thee. 

A  spell  whose  influence  is  so  sweet,  it  reigns  within  my 

breast, 

Imparting  joys,  all  pure  and  soft  as  sunset  in  the  west; 
And  like  that  sun,  when  it  hath  sunk  below  the  horizon's 

bound, 
Thy  absence  leaves  a  loveliness,  and  darkness  gathers 

round. 


LINES    TO .  85 


Love,  oftentimes,  doth  heedless  pass  the  treasures  of  the 

mind, 
To  dwell  where  beauty  charms  alone ;    but  thou  hast 

both  combined ; 
It  is  thy  modest  mien,  and  guileless  heart,  sweet  girl,  I 

prize 
Far,  far  above  thy  voice,  or  form,  or  sunshine  of  thine  eyes. 

0,  may  the  gloomy  cares  of  life  remain  unknown  to  thee, 
Bnt  in  thy  bosom  ever  dwell  bright  hopes  and  lightsome 

glee; 
And,  like  the  evening  star,  which  shines  unchangeable 

above, 
Shed  gladness  round,  and  turn  onr  hearts  to  happiness 

and  love. 


86  A  MAIDEN'S  LOVE. 


A  MAIDEN'S  LOVE. 


As  the  night's  gentle  queen,  who  sits  calmly  above, 
With  her  bright-eyed  attendants  all  glittering  near; 
And  smiles  on  the  earth  from  her  region  of  love, 

While  her  light  o'er  its  bosom  gleams  brightly  and  clear : 
Is  that  angel-like  fair  one,  so  trusting  and  fond, 
Whose  hearts  deep-toned  feelings  in  silence  respond 
To  that  heart  in  whose  music  her  spirit  finds  rest, 
While  the  torch  of  the  boy-god  burns  pure  in  her  breast. 

And  like  the  faint  beams  that  illumine  the  sky, 

When  night's  sable  curtain  rolls  slowly  away ; 
And  the  tree-tops  are  crowned  with  a  deep  golden  dye, 

And  dew-drops  are  glistening  like  gems  on  the  spray ; 
Are  the  blushes  of  love,  when  that  fond  maiden's  eyes 
Have  betrayed  the  emotion  her  fear  would  disguise ; 
And  the  soul-thrilling  passion  her  lips  dared  not  speak, 
Is  at  last  all  revealed  on  her  crimsoning  cheek ! 

And  like  some  sweet  brook  that  hath  burst  o'er  its  bounds, 
When  the  soft  showers  of  summer  have  swollen  its  tides, 
Till  its  bright  waters  rush  in  low  murmuring  sounds, 
Enriching  the  vale  through  whose  bosom  it  glides  : 
Is  the  full  gush  of  feeling  which  pours  from  her  heart, 
When  her  high-heaving  breast  tells  the  thrill  and  the  smart, 
And  burst  from  her  lips  sweet  confessions  of  bliss, 
To  be  sealed  in  deep  rapture  by  love's  glowing  kiss ! 


87 


IRENE. 


As  dew  to  the  meadow, 

Or  the  flower  to  the  bee, 
Or  the  bird  to  the  greenwood, 

So  thou  art  to  me. 

The  meadow-grass  fadeth 

'Neath  the  day-god's  bright  reign 
But  the  dew  of  the  evening 

Brings  freshness  again. 

On  rapid  wing  speedeth 

The  rambling  bee, 
To  the  nectar-fraught  flower 

That  grows  on  the  lea. 

'Mid  the  gloom  of  the  greenwood, 

How  sweet  to  the  ear 
The  robin's  soft  melody, 

Plaintive  and  clear. 

As  dew  to  the  meadow, 

Or  the  flower  to  the  bee, 
Or  the  bird  to  the  greenwood, 

Art  thou,  love,  to  me. 


IRENE. 


When  thou  art  beside  me 
My  heart  groweth  light ; 

But,  oh,  in  thy  absence 
Come  shadows  of  night. 

Ever  bright  is  thine  image, 

In  memory's  ray  } 
It  blesseth  my  slumbers, 

It  haunts  me  by  day. 

Thy  soft  hand — in  dreams — 
Is  oft  clasped  in  mine  own, 

While  my  ear  is  entranced 
With  thy  tremulous  tone. 

Sweet  spirit  of  gladness, 

May  care  never  dart 
One  cankering  arrow, 

To  rust  in  thy  heart ! 

For  thy  thoughts  are  fresh  flowers 
Of  goodness  and  love — 

Ever  shedding  sweet  fragrance 
That  mounteth  above. 

The  whole  world  to  thy  vision 

Is  cheerful  and  bright; 
For  thy  breast  has  no  sorrow, 

Thy  memory  no  blight. 


UNES    TO    ELIZABETH.  89 

May  God  in  his  wisdom 

All  blessings  bestow ; 
While  his  angels  flit  o'er  thee. 

On  pinions  of  snow. 

Sweet  spirit  of  gladness. 

May  care  never  dart 
One  cankering  arrow, 

To  rust  in  thy  heart ! 


LINES  TO  ELIZABETH. 


Oh !  may  thy  years  roll  gently  on, 

As  one  long  summer's  day  : 
While  Faith's  bright  torch  illumes  thy  breast. 

With  clear  and  fadeless  ray  ! 

As  fall  the  leaves  of  some  sweet  rose, 

Stirred  by  the  evening's  blast : 
May  thy  blest  moments  gently  close, 

When  life's  fair  scenes  are  past  I 


90  THE    BEAUTIFUL    FLOWERS. 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  FLOWERS. 


Who  loves  not  to  gaze  on  the  beautiful  flowers, 

As  they  burst  forth  in  every  bright  hue ! 
Whether   sunbeams  glance  hot  or  the  thunder  cloud 

lowers — 
In  the  glen,  in  the  field,  or  in  sheltering  bowers, 

Still,  still  are  they  lovely  and  true  ! 
Sweet  emblems  are  they  of  our  life's  early  years, 

When  the  world  seems  a  garden  of  truth: 
And  we  think  the  warm  showers  some  angel's  bright 

tears, 
When  each  drop  like  a  gem  in  the  sunshine  appears ; 

Oh  !  how  blest  are  those  dreams  of  our  youth ! 
But  storms  have  come  since,  and  dark  wintry  hours — 

And  bright  hopes  have  withered  and  fled ; 
We  find  that  stern  Time  takes  not  only  the  flowers, 
For  we  ask  for  the  friends  we  so  loved  to  call  ours. 

And  are  told  that  they  sleep  with  the  dead  ! 
But  summer  still  comes  with  its  warm  sunny  smile, 

To  call  up  the  bright  flowers  again  : 
And  the  balm-bearing  breezes  once  more  shall  beguile 
Our  loitering  footsteps,  and  song-birds  the  while 

Will  pour  forth  their  welcoming  strain. 


THE    BEAUTIFUL    FLOWERS. 


91 


And  shall  not  the  dark  grave  then  be  made  to  resign 

Those  forms  'twas  a  blessing  to  love  ? 
Oh,  no !  the  cold  body  its  walls  must  enshrine, 
But  the  soul !  the  free  soul !  it  can  never  confine  ; 

It  shines  with  its  Maker  above ! 

Then  while  for  the  lost  ones  we  shed  the  hot  tear, 

We  must  joy  that  their  troubles  are  o'er; 
Though  they  may  not,  like  flowers,  revisit  us  here, 
We  shall  join  them  above  in  that  happier  sphere, 
Where  no  sorrow  can  trouble  us  more  ! 


92 


LOVE. 


Love !  what  is  Love  ?  in  what  doth  it  consist, 
Its  attributes  how  strange — how  undefined; 

Like  sunbeams  streaming  through  the  morning  mist, 

It  bursts  upon  the  enraptured  sense 
And  wakes  the  slumbering  mind. 

It  hath  a  charm  which  sweetly  lulls  to  rest 

The  fitful  storms  of  life's  tempestuous  sea ; 
'Tis  strongest  felt  in  youth's  confiding  breast, 
When  heart  hath  happily  met  with  heart 
As  warm — as  pure — as  free. 

Love,  when  returned,  doth  own  a  magic  power, 
We  bless  the  thraldom,  while  we  feel  the  smart : — 

But  sharper  pangs  come  not  in  death's  dark  hour, 

Than  those  which  unrequited  love 
Strike  through  the  withering  heart. 


COME   TO   THE   JOYOUS   HALL.  93 


COME  TO  THE  JOYOUS  HALL. 

Air-Hewett's  Quick  Step. 


Come,  come,  to  the  joyous  hall, 
List  to  the  strains  of  music  fall, 
Speed,  speed,  'tis  Pleasure's  call  j 

Come  to  the  joyous  hall ! 
Oh,  come  !  where  all  is  bright  and  gay, 
Chase,  chase,  all  thoughts  of  care  away, — 
'Tis  Pleasure's  call,  \ve  must  obey, 

Come  to  the  joyous  hall ! 

When  the  day  gives  place  to  the  silent  night, 
And  the  sky  with  stars  is  gleaming  bright, 
To  the  gorgeous  scene  we  greet  you  with  a  smile, 
And  pleasure  shall  the  passing  hours  beguile ; 
Bright  chandeliers  are  shedding  lustre  round, 
Light  hearts  are  beating  to  the  music's  sound, 
Upon  the  walls  the  painter's  magic  art  appears, 
To  please  the  eye,  while  music  charms  the  ears, 
Come,  come,  to  the  joyous  hall ! 
List  to  the  strains  of  music  fall, 
Speed,  speed,  'tis  Pleasure's  call, 
Come  to  the  joyous  hall ! 


94  THE    GIPSEY   LASS. 


THE  GIPSEY  LASS. 


Oh,  I  am  a  gipsey  lass  ! 

And  happier  none  can  be  ; 
As  gaily  I  trip  o'er  the  grass, 

My  heart  bounding  lightly  and  free  j 
I  care  not  for  power  nor  wealth, 

Nor  the  scorn  of  the  proud  do  I  fear, 
But  blest  with  contentment  and  health, 

I  laugh  when  the  heartless  jeer. 

For  I  am  a  gipsey  lass,  ha!  ha! 
I  am  a  gipsey  lass ! 

A  child  of  the  forest  am  I, 

And  wander  wherever  I  please ; 
The  roof  of  our  home  is  the  sky, 

And  its  walls  are  the  rustling  trees  ; 
We've  a  carpet  that  never  wears  out, 

'Tis  a  bright  and  a  beautiful  green, 
With  wild  flowers  peeping  about, — 

Oh,  a  prettier  never  was  seen. 

Yes,  I  am  a  gipsey  lass,  ha  !  ha ! 
I  am  a  gipsey  lass ! 


THE    GIPSEY    LASS.  95 


'Tis  true,  I  am  careless  and  wild, — 

But  still  I  would  have  you  to  know, 
That  the  heart  of  the  gipsey  child 

Can  melt  at  the  story  of  wo : 
The  traveller  sues  not  in  vain, 

But  freely  our  viands  may  share, 
While  T  sing  some  wild  gipsey  strain, 

To  lull  the  dark  moments  of  care. 

For  I  am  a  gipsey  lass,  ha !  ha ! 
I  am  a  gipsey  lass  ! 

When  heaven's  bright  lantern  is  lit, — 

Reflecting  its  rays  on  the  hill, 
Sweet  thoughts  o'er  my  fancy  will  flit — 

Sweet  thoughts  that  can  never  be  still ; 
Of  the  youth  that  my  bosom  holds  dear, — 

The  pride  of  our  gipsey  band ! — 
Whose  heart  is  a  stranger  to  fear, 

And  to  whom  I  have  given  my  hand. 
For  I  am  a  gipsey  lass,  ha  !  ha ! 
I  am  a  gipsey  lass  ! 


96 


ANOTHER    YEAR    HAS    PASSED    AWAY. 


ANOTHER  YEAR  HAS  PASSED  AWAY. 

*'  I  saw  the  leaves  gliding  down  a  brook, 
Swift  the  brook  ran,  and  bright  the  sun  burned; 
The  sere  and  the  verdant,  the  same  course  they  took, 
And  sped  gaily  and  fast  but  they  never  returned  ; 
And  I  thought  how  the  years  of  a  man  pass  away, — 
Three  score  and  ten — and  then  where  are  they  1" 

Another  year  has  passed  away  ! — 

How  solemn  is  the  thought, 
That  earthly  knowledge  still  must  be 

By  stern  experience  taught ; — 
And  life  at  best  a  devious  path, 
With  lurking  evils  fraught. — 
Strange  that  the  heart  can  e'er  be  gay  ! — 
Another  year  has  rolled  away. 

The  joy-lit  eye  is  sadder  grown  j 

And  deep'ning  lines  declare, 
Upon  the  fading  cheek,  that  Time 

Has  not  been  idle  there  ; 
And  e'en  the  iris  hues  of  Hope, 

A  paler  lustre  wear — 
Hark — the  shrill  winds !  they  seem  to  say 
"  Another  year  has  passed  away !" 

Another  year  has  passed  away — 

How  many  a  gladsome  brow, 
That  smiling  hailed  its  first-born  day, 

Is  cold  and  pulseless  now  : — 


ANOTHER    YEAR    HAS    PASSED    AWAY.  97 

And  Care  in  many  a  face  hath  graved, 

The  furrows  of  his  plough. — 
Hark  !  the  shrill  winds  !  they  seem  to  say 
"  Another  year  has  passed  away  !" 

How  many  a  changeful  scene  hath  been, 

Of  mingled  joy  and  wo; 
Alternate  sunshine,  cloud,  and  storm, 

Life's  tarnished  pages  show} 
The  heart  grows  sad  when  thoughts  like  these, 

Dark  shadows  o'er  it  throw, — 
Hark !  'tis  the  blast !  it  seems  to  say 
"  Another  year  has  passed  away  !" 

A  year  hath  fled  !     Oh  let  us  not 

Suppress  the  rising  throe, 
If  memory  shall  the  mis-spent  past, 

In  startling  colors  show ; — 
But  search  the  vain  heart's  depths,  and  seek 

Its  hidden  springs  to  know : — 
Shun  Folly's  path — seek  Wisdom's  ray! 
"Another  year  hath  passed  away !" 


98  LIGHTS    AND    SHADOWS. 


LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS. 


How  piercing  are  the  bosom's  pangs,  what  rushing  me 
mories  crowd, 
When  Death  enwraps  some  well-loved  form  within  its 

icy  shroud ! 
Oh !  'tis  a  bitter  thing  to  know  our  ear  no  more  may 

greet 
The  fond  familiar  tones,  that  made  life's  music  flow  so 

sweet. 
What  words  can  tell  the  soul's  deep  sadness — 

How  drear  and  dark  the  world  appears ; 

The  sunny  smiles  that  danced  in  gladness 

Are  drowned  in  Sorrow's  burning  tears. 

Yet  when  a  few  brief  years  roll  past,  these  dark  afflic 
tions  seem, 

But  as  the  grief-fraught  visions  of  a  scarce  remembered 
dream. 

And  we  onward  glide, 
Down  Pleasure's  tide, 
Plucking  the  flowers 
Of  Joy  and  Pride. 

And,  oh !  when  first  an  unkind  word  upon  the  startled 

ear 
Comes,  from  the  lips  of  those  we  hold  of  all  the  world 

most  dear, 


LIGHTS    AND    SHADOWS.  99 


What  agony — what  heaving  throes,  throughout  the  bo 
som  dart, 

The   world   can  yield  no  balsam  then,   to  soothe  the 
wounded  heart ! 
But  if  Remorse,  in  anguish  pleading, 

Should  woo  us  to  forgive,  in  vain, 
Then  as  we  turn  aside  unheeding, 
Scorn  may  snap  Love's  brittle  chain. 

Oh !    then  Hope's   sweetest   flowers   must  droop,  that 

cheered  us  in  their  bloom, 

And  Pride  will  strew  their  blighted  leaves  upon  Affec 
tion's  tomb. 

But  if  those  tears 

Plead  not  in  vain, 

Hope's  drooping  flowers 

May  smile  again. 

And  what  are  all  these  cares  at  best  but  as  the  shades 
that  show 

More  brightly  still,  the  pleasing  tints,  that  on  life's  can 
vass  glow ; 

They  come  like  dark  and  envious  clouds  that  cross  the 
moon's  soft  ray  ; 

Dimming  the  light,  that  beams  as  bright  when  they  have 
passed  away ! 


100  THE   PRETTY    FLOWER    GIRL. 


THE  PRETTY  FLOWER  GIRL. 


'Tis  I'm  the  little  Flower  Girl, 

Sweet  gentlefolks  come  buy,  I  pray, 

Oh  !  could  I  boast  of  gem  or  pearl, 
My  heart  like  yours  were  gay. 

I  view  the  sun's  declining  rays, 
With  heavy  heart  and  tearful  eye, 

As  wandering  through  the  city's  maze 
My  pretty  flowers  I  cry ! 

Before  our  lonely  cottage  gate, 

With  eager  watch  each  fading  day, 

Does  little  brother  fondly  wait 
My  home  returning  way. 

Though  dark  my  lot  and  coarse  my  fare, 
A  stranger  to  the  joys  of  wealth, 

'Twere  wrong  to  pine  while  I  still  share 
The  blooming  prize  of  health. 

How  oft  while  on  my  weary  round, 
I  hear  the  gay  piano's  sound, 

While  happy  hearts  so  lightly  bound, 
Enraptured  with  the  spell ! 


THE   PRETTY    FLOWER    GIRL. 


101 


Still,  their  joysT  11  envy  not, 

But  strive  to  bear  my  humble  lot, 
My  heart  is  in  our  simple  cot, 

Where  sweeter  pleasures  dwell. 
'Tis  Pm  the  little  flower  girl, 

Sweet  gentle  folks  come  buy,  I  pray, 
Oh  !  could  I  boast  of  gem  or  pearl, 

My  heart  like  yours  were  gay. 


102  THE   SNUFF-COLORED    DEVIL. 


THE  SNUFF-COLORED  DEVIL. 


All  gloomy  damp  was  the  dungeon  hall, 
Black  cobwebs  hung  down  like  a  funeral  pall, 
And  forty-foots  crawled  on  the  slimy  ground, 
And  ghosts  and  hobgoblins  stood  grinning  around. 
There  were  goblins  jet  black,  and  griffins  pea  green,- 
While  some  were  decked  off  in  silvery  sheen  ; 
But,  oh  !  'twas  a  startling  sight  to  behold 
One  snuff-colored  demon,  with  talons  of  gold. 
Oh  !  the  dark  dungeon  so  drear, 
Oh  !  the  snuff-colored  devil  so  queer. 

A  strange  object  was  there  —  held  a  fork  oddly  shaped, 
Its  jaws  were  extended,  its  claws  newly  scraped  ; 
One  poor  spring-halted  croaker  it  marked  for  its  prey, 
Snatched  it  up  in  its  talons,  and  vanished  away. 
There  was  one  little  devil  —  a  favorite  imp  — 
Its  left  leg  was  broken  —  it  walked  with  a  limp  ; 
Which  the  snuff-colored  devil  no  sooner  did  spy  — 
Put  its  thumb  to  its  nose,  and  kept  squinting  its  eye, 
Oh  !  the  dark  dungeon  so  drear,  &c. 

Now,  what  do  you  guess  little  broken-leg  done  ? 
Do  you  '  go  for  to  think'  that  he  took  it  for  fun  ? 
No  !     Devils,  like  men,  no  insult  will  brook  : 
It  returned  a  most  demon-like,  combatting  look. 


THE    SNUFF-COLORED    DEVIL. 


*•       103 


Then  the  snuff-colored  devil,  with  furious  bound, 
Vaulted  high  in  the  air— turned  a  somerset  round — 
On  the  favorite  lit  like  the  lightning's  swift  flash : — 
Their  eyes  shoot  red  fire — their  white  grinders  gnash. 

Oh!  the  dark  dungeon  so  drear,  &c. 
Then  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke — a  sulphurous  smell — 
A  terrible  struggle — a  piercing  yell — 
The  snuff-colored  imp  has  lost  both  of  his  ears, 
But  its  cries  are  now  drowned  by  the  demon's  loud  cheers 
At  length  they  both  ceased,  their  strength  to  regain; 
Their  groans  long  and  loud,  told  of  terrible  pain. 
The  demons  stood  round,  highly  pleased  with  the  fray ; 
Such  fighting  they'd  not  seen  for  many  a  day. 

Oh !  the  dark  dungeon  so  drear.  &c. 

Now,  the  strife  is  renewed,  more  fierce  than  before, 
And  life's  dark  red  current  made  slippery  the  floor : 
And  the  dungeon's  dark  caverns  with  yells  did  resound 
Of  the  demons  in  glee  who  were  standing  around. 
Then  was  heard  a  loud  scream,  and  with  agonized  bound 
The  little  one  writhed  on  the  slippery  ground ; — 
A  pitchfork  was  planted  deep,  deep  in  its  eyes, 
And  the  cavern  rang  loud  with  its  piercing  cries. 
Oh!  the  dark  dungeon  so  drear,  &c. 

jfll  was  still  for  a  moment,  when  sudden  did  swell 
On  my  ears  a  long,  terrible,  deafening  yell : 
'Twas  the  yell  of  the  vanquished,  as  upwards  he  cast 
On  his  victor  one  grim  look  of  scorn — 'twas  his  last ; 


104  *~  THE    SNUFF-COLORED    DEVIL. 

That  victor  gazed  on  him,  'mid  howling  and  moan, 
Then  snatching  him,  vanished  to  regions  unknown. 
Oh !  the  dark  dungeon  so  drear, 
Oh  !  the  snuff-colored  devil  so  queer. 

From  sleep  started  I,  at  the  morning's  bright  beam, 
Yet  could  scarcely  believe  that  'twas  nought  but  a  dream. 


ABOUT    SOMEBODY.  105 


ABOUT  SOMEBODY. 


1  know  a  bright  and  joyous  girl, 

Ah !  yes,  indeed ! 
With  dentals  of  the  purest  pearl ; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 
A  gentle,  kind,  and  lovesome  thing, 
With  breath  as  sweet  as  breezes  bring, 
From  spicy  islands  in  the  spring ; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 

She  moves  as  graceful  as  the  fawn; 

Ah  !  yes,  indeed  ! 
Her  smile  is  like  the  rosy  dawn ; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 
Such  glances  in  her  dark  eyes  dwell, 
As  e'en  a  stoic's  breast  might  swell 
With  ardent  throbs  ; — so  deep  their  spell ; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 

Her  lightest  word  with  sense  is  fraught, 

Ah !  yes,  indeed  ! 
From  wisdom's  brain-lit  altar  caught ; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 

No  speech  than  her's  more  sweet  and  bland 
And  then  the  pressure  of  her  hand, 
The  man  were  marble  could  withstand : 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 


106 


ABOUT  SOMEBODY. 


Her  name  is ,  but!  fear  to  tell, 

Ah  !  yes,  indeed  ! 
For  blabbing  that  I'd  catch  it  well } 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 
Small  feet  are  her's  as  e'er  I  knew, 
Encased  in  such  a  dainty  shoe ! — 
The  Cinderella  number  two; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 

Her  hair  is  dark  as  midnight  sea, 

Ah  !  yes,  indeed  ! 
Her  tones  are  full  j  her  manners  free; 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 
And  though  so  sly  her  glances  dart, 
They  ne'er  were  trained  by  subtle  art ; — 
But  speak  the  language  of  her  heart  j 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 
Her  red  lips  are  like  roses  fair, 

Ah !  yes,  indeed ! 
Flinging  their  fragrance  on  the  air 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 
And  then  the  mutual  thrill — the  bliss 
That  lieth  in  their  clinging  kiss ! 
Earth  hath  no  joy  more  sweet  than  this, 

You'd  best  believe  it ! 


THE    SONGSTRESS. 


107 


THE  SONGSTRESS. 


Thy  song  throughout  the  festive  hall, 

Rang  joyously  and  free ; 
And  many  a  heart  was  held  in  thrall, 
As  each  soft  cadence  seemed  to  fall 

In  matchless  melody. 

Oh  !  did  those  notes  of  joy  find  rest, 
Sweet  songstress,  in  thy  panting  breast  ? 
Or  doth  that  spirit-stirring  tone 
Cheer  every  heart  but  thine  alone  ? 

Thy  song  oft  tells  of  lovely  things, 

Of  lands  all  bright  and  fair, 
Of  sparkling  streams,  of  bending  trees, 
AVhere  through  their  boughs  the  playful  breeze 

Flings  music  on  the  air. 

These  song-fraught  fancies,  do  they  dart 
In  rays  of  gladness  through  thy  heart  ? 
Or  come  they  but  as  lights  that  gleam 
At  midnight  in  a  fevered  dream. 


108  THE    SONGSTRESS. 


Thy  thrilling  notes  at  times  gush  forth, 

Like  waters  murmuring  low ; 
Then  eddying  round  they  sweetly  steal, 
In  quivering  tones  that  ill  conceal 

Thy  bosom's  secret  woe. 

Ah  !  hast  thou  learned  how  false  the  crowd, 
Who  fling  the  wreath  'mid  plaudits  loud  ? 
Oh  !  heed  them  not ! — seek  virtue's  gem  ! 
It  shines  in  truth's  bright  diadem. 

Then,  when  these  scenes  have  rolled  away, 

And  life's  sad  dream  is  passed, 
That  priceless  gem  will  cast  a  ray, 
To  light  thee  on  thine  upward  way, 

To  blissful  peace  at  last. 

Oh !  then  how  clear  thy  tones  will  peal, 
Around  that  throne  where  angels  kneel ; 
Thou'lt  bless  the  path  thy  feet  have  trod— 
The  ray  that  drew  thee  to  thy  God. 


ESTRANGEMENT. 


109 


ESTRANGEMENT. 


Oh !  I  did  not  deem,  that  the  sunny  stream 

Of  Love  could  e'er  have  dried  ; — 
But  fondly  thought,  when  Fancy  brought 

Sweet  music  on  its  tide, 
That  Hope's  young  dreams,  like  heavenly  beams, 

Bright  heralds  were  of  bliss ; 
Foretelling  joy,  without  alloy, 

In  every  burning  kiss. 

And  Memory  still,  awakes  a  thrill 

Though  the  eye  withholds  a  tear ; 
For  the  lonely  heart  can  never  part ' 

With  thoughts  it  once  held  dear  ; 
They  come  at  times,  in  fitful  chimes, 

Those  relics  of  the  past, 
With  visions  fair,  enwrapt  in  air, 

Too  beautiful  to  last! 

How  oft  at  night,  when  the  skies  were  bright, 

And  all  was  sweet  repose, 
And  fairies  strayed  in  moonlit  glade, 

And  zephyrs  kissed  the  rose, 


110  *  ESTRANGEMENT. 


We  have  sought  afar,  in  the  fairest  star 

'Mid  all  that  gleamed  on  high, 
Our  blissful  home,  where  ills  ne'er  come, 

And  love  can  never  die  ! 

And  the  merry  glance  of  hope  would  dance 

In  thy  soft  beaming  eyes, 
As  I  pictured  bright,  in  the  silent  night, 

Our  mansion  in  the  skies ! 
When  fondly  there,  'mid  scenes  so  fair, 

We  traced  our  future  lot, 
The  world's  dark  snares  and  withering  cares, 

That  hour,  were  all  forgot ! 

And  every  sigh,  far,  far  on  high, 

Seemed  borne  on  Angel's  wings ; 
To  mingle  there,  all  pure  and  fair, 

With  bright  and  lovely  things! 
The  dream  is  past,  a  cloud  has  cast 

Its  shadow  on  my  brow, 
The  fount  is  dried  of  that  rippling  tide — 

There  is  no  music  now. 


ON   THE   DEATH   OF   HENRY   INMAN.  Ill 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HENRY  INMAN. 


"  True  indeed  it  is, 

That  they  whom  death  hath  hidden  from  our  sight, 
Are  worthiest  of  the  mind's  regard,  with  them 
The  future  cannot  contradict  the  past." 


Great  artist,  is  it  thus  !  hath  death's  cold  hand 
Been  rudely  pressed  upon  thy  noble  brow  ! 

We  miss  thy  presence  'mid  the  gifted  band, 
And  yearning  genius  mourns  thy  absence  now. 
Forever  gone ! 

What  though  no  more  this  earth  thy  step  may  know  ? 

Within  our  hearts  thy  memory  still  will  dwell, 
While  many  a  pictured  hall  shall  proudly  show 

Enduring  tokens  of  thy  mystic  spell, 
Forever  bright ! 

By  thee  .no  more  the  canvass  wakes  to  life  ; 

The  hand  creative,  cold  and  nerveless  lies  : — 
Kind  heaven  hath  called  thee  from  this  world  of  strife, 

To  rove  in  lovelier  scenes  beyond  the  skies } 
Forever  blest ! 


112 


ACROSTIC. 


ACROSTIC. 


Joys  pure  as  sinless  angels  know,  sweet  girl  are  surely 
thine ; 

U  nited  in  thy  gentle  breast  dwell  Love  aud  Truth  divine  : 

L  ike  the  soft  zephyr's  balmy  breath,  is  heard  thy  tremb 
ling  sigh,— 

1 1  seems  to  float  from  earth  to  find  its  angel  home  on 
high, 

A  spirings  nobler  far  than  oft  to  earthly  forms  are  given, 

R  eside  blest  inmates  of  thy  heart,  to  lead  thee  on  to 
heaven. 

I  nstinctive  modesty,  and  grace,  thy  slightest  action  shows; 

No  angry  storms  e'er  cloud  the  calm  thy  peaceful  bo 
som  knows. 

G  old  cannot  buy  life's  truest  joys,  a  conscience  free 
from  sin  ; 

W  ant,  care  and  misery  from  the  heart  that  treasure 
cannot  win. 

O'er  thy  sweet  face  is  cast  a  charm,  a  radiance  soft  and 
mild, — 

0  rdained  by  heaven  that  all  might  know 

D  evotion's  loveliest  child  ! 


LOVE    IN    CONTRASTS.  113 


LOVE  IN  CONTRASTS. 


My  love  for  thee  is  not  the  flower 
That  flaunteth  in  some  painted  bower, 
To  yield  when  autumn  tempests  lower, 

Its  short  and  feeble  life. 
But  oh,  'tis  like  the  enduring  tree, 
That  waves  its  leafy  boughs  in  glee  , — 
Or  braves  with  dauntless  heart  and  free, 

The  tempest's  raging  strife. 
My  love  is  not  the  pool  that  lies 
In  sluggish  mood  'neath  murky  skies, 
Where  no  bright  shapes  of  beauty  rise 

To  break  its  silent  sleep. 
But  oh,  'tis  like  the  ocean  true, 
That  mirrors  in  its  bosom  blue, 
The  smiling  cloud  that  bends  to  woo, 
With  glances  warm  and  deep. 
My  love  for  thee  is  not  the  gleam, 
That  danceth  in  some  rippling  stream, 
To  cheer  awhile  with  fickle  beam, 

Then  fade  at  last  away. 
But  oh,  'tis  like  the  flames  that  rise, 
From  sacred  altars  to  the  skies 
When  priests  make  holy  sacrifice, 
So  fervent  is  its  ray ! 


114  SONNET   TO   JULIE. 


SONNET  TO  JULIE. 


Thou  art  devotion's  goddess,  maiden  dear ; 
Thy  accents  wake  the  music-chords  of  love 
Within  the  list'ner's  breast ;  bright  forms  above, 

Look  down  in  smiles  and  bless  thee.     Pure  and  clear 

As  some  sweet  rippling  streamlet  gliding  by, 
Thy  peaceful  hours  pass  on ;  no  darkling  cloud 
Of  passion  ever  dims  thy  soul's  clear  sky — 

Whose  heavenly  radiance  sparkles  in  thine  eye. 

Thou  seekest  not  among  the  flaunting  crowd — 
The  world's  vain  devotees — for  life's  true  joy  5 — 
But  with  religion's  earnest  faith  endowed. 

Thy  hopes  are  placed  above,  where  no  alloy 
Of  hate,  nor  envy,  sorrow,  sin,  nor  care, 
Nor  pain,  nor  death,  shall  ever  enter  there ! 


CAROLINE.  115 


CAROLINE. 


There  is  something  half  of  earth- 
And  something  half  divine, 

That  seems  to  dance 

In  the  witching  glance 
Of  bright-eyed  Caroline. 

What  sunshine  and  what  shade, 
O'er  her  lovely  features  play; 

First,  frowns  beguile — 

Then  comes  a  smile 
To  chase  the  frowns  away. 

A  magic  sweetness  dwells 
Upon  her  sun-lit  face — 

For  gloom,  nor  care, 

Ne'er  trespassed  there, 
To  mar  its  native  grace. 

There's  mischief  in  the  curls 
That  shade  her  blushing  cheek- 

And  her  lips  so  bright, 

Your  kiss  invite, 

As  plain  as  LIPS  can  speak — 

But  heed  them  not — beware  ! 
Her  heart  to  ONE  is  true ; 


116  CAROLINE. 


No  other's  kiss 
May  know  the  bliss, 

To  sip  their  nectarous  dew ; 

And  should  you  rashly  dare, 

Their  precincts  to  invade — 
Your  smarting  cheek, 
Would  more  than  speak, 

The  losing  game  you  played. 

So  !  better  be  content, 
The  precious  fruit  to  view  : 

Than  have  the  pains 

Without  the  gains, 
And  catch  a  whipping,  too. 

Sweet  Carry !  may  thy  days, 
Like  music  glide  along — 

And  no  rude  jar 

Of  discord  mar 

The  cadence  of  thy  song. 


LINES    TO    JULIA.  117 


LINES  TO  JULIA. 


Oh  !  could  my  heart  its  wish  fulfil, 

How  bright  thy  days  should  be  ; 
As  smoothly  gliding  as  the  bark 

Upon  a  storinless  sea. 
No  darkling  clouds  of  passion,  e'er 

Should  mar  thy  peaceful  hours ; 
Whilst  in  thy  breast  sweet  thoughts  should  dwell, 

As  birds  in  eastern  bowers. 

Life  lies  before  thee,  gentle  maid, 

All  lovely  to  thy  view ; 
And  dazzling  Pleasure  culls  for  thee 

Bright  flowers  of  every  hue  : — 

But  oh  !  with  careless  hand  too  oft 

She  plucks  those  treasures  fair ; — 
Nor  views  amid  the  leaves  the  Asp 

Of  Disappointment  there. 

Then  learn,  sweet  maid,  that  pleasure's  gifts 
Though  ne'er  so  bright  their  gleam, 

Luring  the  heart  with  many  a  spell, 
Are  fleeting  as  a  dream. 


118  LINES    TO    JULIA. 


But  see  !  where  Faith,  the  Angel,  stands 
In  robes  of  spotless  white ; — 

With  hand  upraised,  she  pointeth  far 
To  realms  of  fadeless  light. 

She  bids  thee  place  thy  trust  in  Him 
Who  made  air,  earth  and  sea ; 

And  who  alone  from  Error's  snares, 
Can  guide  thy  spirit  free. 

To  mortal  minds  it  is  not  given 

Their  destiny  to  know, — 
For  could  we  but  Fate's  shadows  view, 

Life's  joys  would  turn  to  woe. 

But  Hope  !  sweet  Hope,  still  lingers  near, 

To  soothe  the  fainting  heart, 
She  hath  a  word  for  every  fear, 

A  balm  for  every  smart. 

Life  is  made  up  of  Joy  and  Grief, 
Earth  seems  not  always  bright, 

And  they  are  happiest  who  can  view 
God's  purposes  aright ! 


ALIENATED  AFFECTION.  119 


ALIENATED  AFFECTION. 


The  stars  are  peering  calmly  down,  the  moon  is  beam 
ing  bright, 

And  hand  in  hand,  two  lovers  stand,  beneath  her  pen 
sive  light ', 

And  like  some  pure  and  sunny  stream,  time  sweetly 
seems  to  glide, 

Bearing  along  their  heart-born  song,  upon  its  onward  tide. 

They  gaze  upon  that  gentle  moon,  with  eyes  that  fondly 
gleam, 

While  every  thought,  with  passion  fraught,  is  chastened 
by  her  beam ; 

Strong  is  the  gushing  tide  of  bliss  that  swells  their  bo 
soms  high — 

Joy  lives  in  every  burning  kiss,  Hope  breathes  in  every 
sigh. 

Surpassing  fair  the  charms  that  shone  upon  the  maiden's 

face, 
And  his  the  form  a  sculptor's  hand  might  well  be  proud 

to  trace  : 
The  maiden's  ear  drank  sweetly  in  the  gentle  words  he 

spoke, 

While  fondly  on  his  breast  she  hung  like  ivy  round  the  oak. 
Earth  seemed  to  them  a  paradise,  a  land  of  fadeless  bliss : 
While  Hope  her  net  more  closely  wove  in  every  thrilling 

kiss  j 


120  ALIENATED    AFFECTION. 

Joy's  golden  cup  is  brimming  o'er,  the  cares  of  life  forgot, 
And  e'en  the  future  shadows  forth  a  bright  and  happy 
lot. 

No  vows  were  made,  no  formal  vows,  so  well  the  lovers 

knew, 
That  words  of  faith  were  needless  all,  with  hearts  so 

warm  and  true ; 
The  meeting  lips,  the  close  embrace,  the  long  and  deep 

drawn  sigh, 
Gave  to  their  souls  a  fonder  pledge  than  words  can  e'er 

imply. 

A  few  short  months  have  circled  past — the  stars  still 

gleam  as  true — 

Again  the  floweret's  leaves  are  bright  with  gems  of  spark 
ling  dew; 
The  faithful  moon  is  casting  o'er  the  earth  her  cheering 

ray- 
But  oh  !  those  fond  and  trusting  ones — the  lovers,  where 
are  they  ? 

Alas  !  alas !  for  earthly  hopes,  how  transient  are  they  all ! 

Upon  their  hearts  estrangement  cold  hath  cast  a  cheer 
less  pall ! 

The  buds  of  love  and  hope  have  died  upon  the  withered 
stem — 

And  though  that  moon  still  sweetly  smiles,  it  smiles  no 
more  for  them. 


THE  MAIDEN'S  REMORSE.  121 

THE  MAIDEN'S  REMORSE. 

Shall  they,  who  cause  so  many  bitter  tears  to  flow,  shed  none 
themselves  1" 

I  join  with  the  gay  and  glittering  throng, 
In  the  merry  dance  and  the  cheerful  song ; 
And  a  smile  at  times  on  my  brow  will  play, 
Lighting  it  up  with  a  transient  ray  ; 
But  joys  which  once  my  spirit  bound, 
Weave  vainly  now  their  spells  around, 
And  though  the  smile  may  seern  of  gladness, 
It  but  conceals  my  bosom's  sadness  ! 
Where  is  the  hand  whose  touch  could  dart 
A  thrill  of  transport  through  my  heart  ? 
The  voice,  whose  music's  soothing  swell 
Upon  mine  ears  so  sweetly  fell  ? 
They  are  absent  now !  and  a  cloud  of  gloom 
Steals  o'er  my  soul,  in  the  festive  room  : 
That  voice  is  stilled — the  spell  is  broken, 
By  words  my  reckless  lips  have  spoken ! 
Oh !  could  he  read  my  soul's  unrest — 
Knew  he  the  pangs  that  rend  my  breast — 
Then,  then,  that  heedless  word  and  tone, 
Which  dimmed  the  star  of  love  that  shone 
Around  my  path  with  its  cheering  light, 
Shrouding  it  o'er  with  the  gloom  of  night — 
Were  all  forgot!  and  the  star's  bright  ray 
Once  more  might  gleam  on  my  clouded  way. 


122 


THE   UNSLEEPING  ,EYE. 


THE  UNSLEEPING  EYE. 


There  is  an  eye  that  never  sleeps ! — 
That  o'er  the  world  its  vigil  keeps, 
From  yonder  arching  sky  : 

Amid  the  blaze  of  noonday  light, 
Or  in  the  darkling  shades  of  night, 
Still  peers  that  sleepless  eye ! 

Clear  to  its  vision — oh  !  how  clear  ! 
Those  deeply  hidden  thoughts  appear, 
The  features  would  deny; 

There's  not  an  impulse  e'er  can  start, 
Of  good  or  evil  in  the  heart, 
But  meets  that  watchful  eye. 

The  wretch,  all  trembling,  seeks  some  spot, 
To  form,  unseen,  his  guilty  plot; 
No  human  foolstep  by; 

Yet  though  from  mortal  gaze  concealed, 
Each  deed,  each  thought,  lies  all  revealed 
Beneath  that  haunting  eye  ! 


THE   UNSLEEPING    EYE.  123 

In  lowly  cot — or  palace  gay — 
Or  o'er  the  seas,  far,  far  away 
Its  glance  is  ever  nigh  : 

Then,  oh !  thou  wretch  !  with  crime  imbued, 
Fly  where  thou  wilt,  thou' 11  ne'er  elude, 
That  keen  and  searching  eye  ! 


124  THE   FINE    OLD    MAIDEN    LADY. 


THE  FINE  OLD  MAIDEN  LADY. 


I'll  sing  you,  folks,  a  little  song,  that  cannot  well  be 

beat, 

Of  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  who  resided  in  our  street ; 
And  she  was  a  kind,  good  humored  soul,  as  one  could 

wish  to  meet, 
And  dearly  loved  her  dogs  and  cats,  which  played  about 

her  feet, 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  one  of  the  present 

time. 

Her  little  room  was  hung  around,  with  ribbons,  caps, 

and  bows, 
And  little  shelves  of  china  ware,  which  met  misfortune's 

blows, 

There  in  her  old  arm  chair  she'd  sit,  and  fall  into  a  doze, 
While  the  teazing  flies  would  buzz  about  her  fine  old 

ruby  nose, 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 

One  little  yellow  dog  she  loved,  much  more  than  all  the 

rest, 
Which  ate  from  off  its  mistress1  plate  whatever  pleased 

it  best; 


THE    FINE    OLD    MAIDEN    LADY.  125 


And  twice  a  day  she  used  to  wash  her  darling  little  pet, 
And  bought  eye-water  for  its  eyes,  which  were  the  black 
est  jet; 

For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 
At  last  one  day  her  pet  was  missed,  she  searched  the 

city  through, 

In  all  the  daily  papers,  large  rewards  were  offered  too ; 
Described  exactly  how  he  looked,  his  color,  and  his  eyes — 
In  grief  she  wandered  round  the  house,  with  tears  and 

heavy  sighs. 

For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 
Three  tedious  days  had  slowly  passed,  no  tidings  met 

her  ear, 
This  fine  old  maid  was  failing  fast,   for  nothing  now 

could  cheer ; 
For  she  would  neither  eat,  nor  drink,  nor  sleep,  nor  stay 

awake, 
Oh !  she  sobbed  so  for  her  little  pet,  you'd  think  her 

heart  would  break, 

For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 
But  Time's  kind  hand  will  soon  blot  out  the  sharpest 

pangs  of  grief, 

Before  a  week  had  circled  o'er  she  felt  a  great  relief! 
She  walked  once  more  before  her  door,  her  slumbers 

were  more  sweet, 
Her  appetite  again  returned,  oh,  dear !  how  she  could 

eat; 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 


126  THE    FINE    OLD   MAIDEN    LADY. 


This  maiden  had  two  gossip  friends  with  whom  she  loved 
to  chat, 

They  had  just  stopped  in  to  talk  of  news,  of  this  affair 
and  that ; 

Perhaps  to  tell  of  green  ones  caught  in  wedlock's  gall 
ing  net ; 

But  this  old  maiden's  absent  thoughts  were  always  on  her 

pet; 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 

The  feast  prepared,  now  down  they  sat,  their  tongues 

ran  fast  and  free, 
Their  left  hands  held  a  piece  of  pie,  their  right  a  cup  of 

tea, 
The  tea  was  strong  and  highly  praised,  the  pie  could  not 

be  beat, 
For  she  bought  it  of  a  baker  man,  "what  sold 'em"  in  the 

street ; 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 

Then  all  at  once  these  ladies  thought  it  tasted  kind  of 

queer, 
Each  one  upon  the  other  looked,  and  turned  quite  pale 

in  fear ; 
The  fine  old  maiden  lady  screamed,  and  fainted  on  the 

floor, 
They  raised  her  up  to  give  her  air,  and  opened  wide  the 

door  5 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maidon  lady,  &c, 


THE    FINE    OLD    MAIDEN    LADY.  127 


'Twas  plain  to  see  her  time  was  come,  she  grew  so  very 

weak, 
Three  times  she  pointed  to  the  pie,  and  vainly  tried  to 

speak ; 
She  opened  wide  her  jaws  in  death — oh  !  what  a  sight 

was  there ! 
They  saw  the  blue  silk  ribbon  that  her  puppy  used  to 

wear; 
For  she  was  a  fine  old  maiden  lady,  &c. 

They  laid  her  in  the  cold,  cold  ground,  while  tears  be- 

dinrmed  their  eyes, 
The  coroner's  verdict  was,  she  died  from  eating  puppy 

pies : 
And  now  her  ghost  is  often  seen,  slow  stalking  through 

the  land ; 
And  a  monstrous  piece  of  mince-meat  pie,    clutched 

tightly  in  the  hand. 
Of  this  fine  old  maiden  lady,  all  of  the  present  time. 


128  LIFE,   DEATH,  AND    IMMORTALITY. 


LIFE,  DEATH,  AND  IMMORTALITY. 

1  Cor.  xv.  49. — And  as  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earthy, 
so  shall  we  also  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly. 

O'er  the  swift  waters  of  Time's  ceaseless  tide, 
By  pleasure  gladdened  or  by  pain  oppressed — 
Alike  in  storm,  or  calm,  we  onward  glide, 
To  find  in  Death's  cold  arms  at  last, 

Our  only  earthly  rest. 
Dark  and  repulsive  doth  the  grave  appear  j 
No  blessed  sun-ray  cheers  its  lonely  hall  j 
The  tones  of  loved  ones  fall  not  on  the  ear, — 
Though  many  an  anguished  sob  breaks  forth, 

And  scalding  tear-drops  fall. 

The  sun,  the  birds,  the  flowers — all  blessed  things, 
That  gave  delight  in  Nature's  bounteous  store, 
Can  ne'er  unseal  the  eye,  or  start  the  springs 
Of  gladness  in  the  pulseless  heart 

Whose  fever-throbs  are  o'er. 
Time  pauseth  not !  still  flows  his  tide  along  • — 
Joy's  sparkling  beams  his  waters  gaily  light ; 
Pleasure  allures  us  with  her  siren  song, 
And  we  forget  that  Life's  bright  day 

Must  fade  in  clouded  night. 


LIFE,  DEATH,  AND    IMMORTALITY.  129 

Wealth's  glittering  baubles  tempt  our  worldly  gaze ; 
Love,  fame,  ambition,  weave  their  potent  charms, 
Gilding  life's  current  with  their  transient  rays — 
But,  oh !  they  cannot  stay  its  course  j 
Or  loose  Death's  stony  arms. 

In  his  dark  dwelling  gold  availeth  not : — 
Love  doth  not  enter  there  with  fond  caress } 
Fame,  pride,  ambition,  all  shall  be  forgot, 
And  worms  will  revel  on  the  lips 
Affection  loved  to  press. 

Oh !  hath  the  trembling  soul  no  star  to  dart 
A  ray  that  will  endure  throughout  the  gloom "? 
Yes !  'tis  Religion  !  dark  must  be  that  heart 
That  sees  no  glimmering  light  beyond 
The  precincts  of  the  tomb. 

'Tis  all  we  have  to  cheer  our  earthly  way ; — 
Soft  breathes  its  music  from  those  crystal  lands, 
Amid  whose  groves  the  spirit  soon  shall  stray  ; 
And  share  the  joys  that  never  fade, 
With  bright-robed  angel  bands. 


130  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  WM.   F.  GATES. 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  WM.  F.  GATES. 

"  All  the  world's  a  stage." 

Thou  hast  played  thy  brief  part  in  the  drama  of  life  ; 

Through  its  many  strange  scenes  thou  hast  fearlessly 

trod, 
And  at  last  left  its  tumults,  its  cares,  and  its  strife, 

To  dwell  in  the  home  of  thy  God ! 

Oh!  thine  was  the  skill  to  soothe  sorrow's  deep  pang, 
Or  dispel  the  dark  clouds  of  the  world-weary  heart  j 

How  oft  the  loud  plaudits  of  thousands  have  rang 
'Neath  the  spell  of  thy  soul-cheering  art ! 

But  Death,  the  stern  prompter,  hath  called  thee  away, 

From  the  false  world's  illusive  and  glittering  toys  ; 
And  now  amid  happier  scenes  thou  shalt  stray, 

And  share  with  bright  angels  their  joys. 
Yes  !  the  light  hath  departed  that  smiled  on  our  way; 

Yet  it  soothes  us  to  think,  as  we  shed  the  warm  tear. 
Though  our  eyes  may  no  more  greet  its  welcoming  ray, 

It  still  beams  in  a  lovelier  sphere. 


STANZAS.  131 


STANZAS. 


Who  lives  through  life's  season, 

And  knoweth  not  love, 
Hath  refused  the  high  mission 

Sent  down  from  above  j 
His  breast  is  a  winter 

Of  desolate  hours  j — 
Where  the  spring-time  ne'er  comes 

With  its  verdure  and  flowers. 

Oh  !  how  wild  is  the  transport — 

How  perfect  the  bliss  ! — 
When  lip  presseth  lip 

In  a  love  glowing  kiss  ! 
And  the  arms  are  encircled 

Around  the  loved  form ; 
And  the  low-murmured  words 

Are  impassioned  and  warm. 

Love  planteth  the  seeds 
Of  delight  in  the  heart ; — 

Whose  quick-springing  blossoms 
Rich  fragrance  impart ', 


132  STANZAS. 


Then  give  him  kind  welcome, 

Ye  bosoms  of  snow — 
He  will  cheer  your  cold  hearts 

In  his  torch's  warm  glow. 

The  whole  world  will  then  wear 

A  new  beauty  and  bloom ; 
And  the  flowers  of  life 

Yield  a  sweeter  perfume. 
Oh !  reject  not  the  blessing 

God's  goodness  hath  given 
To  mortals  as  well 

As  to  angels  in  heaven ! 


LOVE'S    PHASES.  133 


LOVE'S  PHASES. 


Love  reigneth  not  in  every  breast  alike — 
It  hath  degrees — and  taketh  many  shapes ; 
How  lightly  some  put  on  the  mystic  chain — 
As  though  it  were,  at  best,  a  toy 
Caprice  may  cast  aside. 

There  is  a  love, 

Comes  of  the  flashing  of  a  lustrous  eye — 
The  hand's  soft  clasping — or  an  artful  word — 
When  drop'd  from  cunning  lips  enwreathed  in  smiles  j 
But  love  like  this  is  like  the  meteor's  light, 
And  lures  but  to  deceive. 

There  is  a  love, 

Much  like  the  bubble  glist'ning  in  the  brook ; 
Bright  while  the  sun  shines  forth ;  but  when  a  cloud 
Conceals  its  golden  beams,  the  gaudy  thing 
Grows  lustreless  and  dim.     It  is  the  love 
That  springs  from  selfishness,  and  builds  its  trust 
On  fortune's  smiles,  much  more  than  on  the  heart  j — 
A  glittering  delusion ! 

There's  a  love 

Of  still  another  kind— so  fickle— false, 
So  transient  in  itself — so  vain — so  bold — 
And  so  successful  too — we  scarce  can  find 
Its  apt  similitude :     'Tis  not  unlike 


134  LOVE'S  PHASES. 


The  ever  changing  bee,  that  leaves  the  flower 
He  just  hath  won,  and  rifled  of  its  sweets ; 
And  seeks  again  another  blushing  prize, 
To  be  in  turn  deserted. 
There's  a  love 

Of  far  superior  stamp  !  a  love  whose  flames 
Burn  in  the  temple  of  the  generous  heart 
With  hope  inspiring  rays  !  a  love  that  clings 
Close  to  its  idol  with  an  earnest  faith — 
A  deep  and  deathless  fervor !  such  the  love 
That  brings  upon  the  cheek  a  roseate  blush 
At  utterance  of  a  name.     How  thrills  the  heart 
When  thus  affection's  music-chords  are  touched — 
With  long  and  deep  vibrations ;  this  is  love, 
Not  of  the  heart  alone,  but  of  the  mind, 
And  fortified  by  wisdom  and  by  truth — 
Inspiring  lofty  thoughts,  and  noble  aims; 
Tinting  the  scenes  of  life  with  brighter  hues; 
And  shedding  o'er  the  soul  a  rich  perfume, 
Sweet  as  the  breath  of  roses.     Love  like  this 
Grows  never  dim  ;  but  in  the  heart's  recess 
Its  altar  fires  as  brightly  still  will  burn, 
Should  storms  of  dark  adversity  assail, 
As  in  bright  fortune's  warm  and  prosp'rous  gale  ! 


THE    OLD    INKSTAND. 


135 


THE  OLD  INKSTAND. 


I  love  it ! — I  love  it !  let  no  rash  hand 
Convey  from  my  desk  that  old  inkstand ! 
I  have  treasured  it  upwards  of  several  years — 
I  have  spattered  it  over  with  inky  tears — 
And  ne'er  from  its  base  has  leaked  out  yet 
A  single  drop  of  its  shining  jet. 
You'd  better  believe  it :  a  workman  planned 
And  fashioned  the  form  of  that  old  inkstand  ! 

I  have  dipped  my  pen  in  it  millions  of  times 
When  inditing  epistles  or  fashioning  rhymes, 
And  I  value  it  highly,  you  may  depend — 
For  to  me  'tis  a  trusty  and  liberal  friend  ! 
Though  faces  may  wear  for  me  now  no  more 
The  smiles  of  affection  which  once  they  wore, 
I  say,  let  them  go,  if  it  be  their  will, 
For  my  inky  friend  is  faithful  still ! 

It  never  demanded  a  quid  pro  quo  ; 
It  never  gets  tired  and  wants  to  go ; 
And  oft  do  I  gaze,  with  a  miser's  pride, 
On  the  fountain  that  yields  me  its  sable  tide. 
You  may  smile  at  my  love  as  a  foolish  dream, 
While  the  scalding  tears  o'er  my  paper  stream, 
But  I'll  give  him  "Jessie"  whose  daring  hand 
Abstracts  from  my  desk  that  old  inkstand ! 


136  HER  HEART  CANNOT  FORGET. 


HER  HEART  CANNOT  FORGET. 


Still  in  the  maiden's  fond  and  trustful  breast, 

The  love-fire  burns 

For  him — the  absent  one — the  dearest — best — 
And  like  the  flower  that  to  the  day-god  turns, 

From  east  to  west, 
For  him,  for  him,  her  ardent  spirit  yearns 

With  sweet  emotions  blest ! 

Ah,  yes,  through  changeful  hours,  love's  holy  light 

Is  cherished  yet ! 

Nor  space,  nor  time,  nor  absence,  shall  not  blight 
The  flowers  of  hope  and  trust,  that  bloom  so  bright, 

With  love-tears  wet  : 
He  fills  her  thoughts  by  day — her  dreams  by  night; 

Her  heart  cannot  forget ! 


COME,  SING    ME    SOME    BALLAD. 


137 


COME,  SING  ME  SOME  BALLAD. 


The  sun  has  gone  down 

'Neath  the  horizon's  bound  ; 
And  the  shadows  of  evening 

Are  closing  around  ; 
But  the  cares  of  the  day 

Linger  still  in  my  breast, 
Depriving  my  spirit 

Of  calmness  and  rest. 

Come,  sing  me  some  ballad  — 

Some  song  of  thy  choice  'T 
And  blend  the  piano's 

Soft  tone  with  thy  voice  :  — 
Not  the  grand  compositions 

From  masters  of  old  — 
They  would  fall  on  my  senses 

Unmeaning  and  cold. 

But  sing  me  some  simple 

And  soul-soothing  lay, 
Gushing  forth  with  the  strain 

Of  the  music  you  play,— 
Then!  oh,  then,  the  stern  thoughts 

In  my  bosom  that  throng, 
Shall  be  lulled  into  rest 

By  the  spell  of  thy  song  ! 


138  THE  FANCY  DRESS  BALL. 


THE  FANCY  DRESS  BALL. 


Rich  festive  music  fills  the  spacious  hall, 
And  youthful  hearts  beat  high  in  wild  delight ; 
And  eyes  dance  bright  in  joy's  delicious  thrall, 

For  care  has  fled,  and  in  his  stead 

Gay  fancy  holds  the  night. 

Mark  you  thai  dusky  Indian's  subtle  tread, 
How  like  some  wily  snake  he  glides  along ; 
And  now  he  grasps  the  hand  of  yon  fair  maid, 

Who  starts  not  at  the  red  man's  gaze, 

Nor  fears  his  glittering  blade. 

The  eye  were  keen  indeed  that  could  detect 
In  that  dark  Indian — or  who  Indian  seemed, 
Aught  that  pertains  to  Christian  look  or  act; 

The  mind  would  turn  on  deeds  of  blood, 

And  peaceful  cottage  sacked. 

Gayly  the  night  rolls  on — hold,  no,  I  should  say  flies ; 
Sweet  words  and  looks  of  rapture  and  delight, 
Fast  fall  from  beauty's  lips  and  love-lit  eyes — 

Foreshadows  of  approaching  bliss, 

In  Hymen's  sacred  ties. 


THE  FANCY  DRESS  BALL.  139 

There  stands  lago — in  that  open  smile 
Lurks  no  deceit — 'tis  clear  he  hath  forgot 
The  villain's  specious  look  of  hate  and  pride, 

Enchanted  by  the  magic  glance 

Of  fair  one  by  his  side. 

Now,  ladies,  mind  you  keep  a  watchful  eye 

On  yonder  stranger  and  his  crouching  friend  ; 

Guard  well  your  jewels — 'tis  that  wretch  "  Macaire  " — 

Ah!  George!  the  thief  his  heart  may  lose, 

I  charge  you  to  beware. 

A  form  appears  in  glittering  armor  clad, 

Whose  burnished  helm,  and  dancing  raven  plumes 

Bring  back  to  mind  brave  deeds  of  bye-gone  days, 

When  gallant  knight  for  lady  fought, 

To  win  her  smile  of  praise. 

Now  to  the  dance  the  noble  Pythias  leads 

His  loved  Calanthe — fairest  of  the  fair ; 

Well  may  his  heart-pulse  throb  more  quick  and  free 

While  listening  to  that  voice,  which  speaks 

Her  soul's  deep  melody. 

My  simple  pen  hath  not  the  power  to  trace 

In  words,  what  beauty  and  what  joy  were  there  j 

Nor  can  it  e'er  depict  the  enchanting  grace 

Of  beaming  faces,  lit  with  love, 

Death  only  may  erase. 


140  THE  FANCY  DRESS  BALL. 

In  the  far  future,  whatsoe'er  my  lot. 

Nought  shall  efface  remembrance  of  that  scene; 

Visions  of  well-known  forms  will  hover  then, 

And  memory  brood  on  early  joys 

Life  ne'er  may  know  again. 

'Tis  sweet  to  think  that  in  this  world  of  care. 
Bright  hours  of  joy  and  mirth  we  still  may  claim  j 
Then  let  the  bigot  frown — the  wise  will  share, 

Those  harmless  pleasures  meant  to  bless, 

Nor  yield  to  dull  despair ! 


THE  BROOKLYN  GIRLS.  141 


THE  BROOKLYN  GIRLS. 


Brooklyn  is  a  glorious  city  : 

Yes — it  is ! 
Its  girls  are  artless,  fair  and  pretty ; 

No  joke  about  it ! 
I  love  to  see  their  little  feet 
Propelling  them  along  the  street ; — 
And  meet  their  glances,  sly  and  sweet ; 

You'd  better  doubt  it ! 

The  Brooklyn  girls  are  full  of  glee  ; 

Yes — they  are  ! 
Their  manners  gentle,  kind,  and  free ; 

No  joke  about  it ! 

No  cloud  of  gloom  above  them  lowers : 
But  songs,  and  music,  mirth,  and  flowers, 
Make  still  more  bright  their  sinless  hours  ; 

You'd  better  doubt  it ! 

The  Brooklyn  girls  have  cheeks  like  roses ; 

Yes — they  have  ! 
Bright,  pouting  lips  and  classic  noses ; 

No  joke  about  it ! 


142  THE    BROOKLYN    GIRLS. 


Oh,  many  a  form  has  met  my  view, 
As  fair,  as  graceful,  and  as  true, 
As  e?en  the  Venus  Titian  drew ; 

You'd  better  doubt  it ! 

The  Brooklyn  girls  are  joyous  creatures  ! 

Yes — they  are  ! 
Fun  sticks  out  on  all  their  features  : 

No  joke  about  it ! 
Let  New  York  boast  its  ladies  fair — 

I'll  take  my  solemn 1  declare 

With  the  Brooklyn  girls  they  can't  compare ! 

You'd  better  doubt  it ! 


THE    SUMMER    SHOWER. 


143 


THE  SUMMER  SHOWER. 


The  noonday  sun,  with  angry  frown, 

Flings  fierce  his  fiery  vengeance  down, 

And  each  green  thing  grows  sere  and  brown, 

Beneath  his  scorching  eye. 
The  herds  have  left  the  burning  glade, 
And  couched  within  the  friendly  shade 
A  giant  oak's  tall  branches  made, 

They  all  supinely  lie. 

No  more  beyond  yon  sloping  hill, 

Is  heard  the  music  of  the  rill 

That  served  to  turn  the  clacking  mill  j 

Its  pebbled  bed  is  dry. 
The  birds  all  hide  with  drooping  wings, 
No  voice  is  heard  of  living  things, 
Save  when  with  startling  clearness  rings 

The  cat-bird's  peevish  cry. 

See  !  'neath  yon  boundless  arch  of  blue, 
What  darkling  clouds  upspring  to  view, 
And  rush  like  phantom  chargers  through 

Their  trackless  path  on  high ! 
And  hark!  the  thunder's  rumbling  car 
Sounds  through  the  wide  expanse  afar ! 
The  proud  earth  trembles  'neath  the  jar  : — 
The  storm-god  rules  the  sky. 


r 

144  THE    SUMMER    SHOWER. 


And  now  oe'er  fields  of  drooping  grain, 
In  copious  floods  descends  the  rain — 
Or  pattering  on  the  parched  plain, 

Revives  the  thirsting  ground. 
At  last  the  shower  has  passed  away, 
Again  bursts  forth  the  god  of  day, 
Tinting  the  clouds  with  heavenly  ray, 

That  skirt  the  horizon's  bound. 

The  flowers  shine  forth  with  fresher  hue  : 

The  joyous  birds  their  songs  renew  j 

Its  pebbled  track  the  stream  runs  through — 

Swift  turns  the  mill-wheel  round. 
Now  the  retiring  god  of  day 
Flings  o'er  the  scene  his  farewell  ray  ; 
Now  sinks  to  rest, — and  evening  gray, 

And  silence  reigns  profound. 


1376! 


M191944 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


